Bartimaeus

Our journey from Grenoble to Lille was straightforward, despite the loud bang and 5 minute evacuation at the start. Once seated, I was bemused by a soft squeaking sound nearby. Then I realised it was a completely black cat in a nylon mesh container travelling with the young man in the seat next ours across the aisle. It looked very young. Even more surprising, the man didn't have completely scratched arms. He must wear gauntlets or have a fabby feline relaxing technique for loading it.

We didn't explore Lyon, the intermediate stop, as it was raining buckets, not bouquets, but we found a bakery for lunch in the station. Shane found a table while I waited for the drinks and paid. I couldn't find my credit card. What a disaster! I tried to explain that my husband could pay, but getting his attention was harder, tucked, as he was, in the far corner behind a pillar. At last he saw me and came and tapped. I was pretty sure it wasn't actually lost - I really hoped not! Once calmly seated, I found it quickly. We relaxed into lunch and went back up for cake. 

It was raining, though less heavily, in Lille too. We had the address of our accommodation - in a different area from before, the better to explore. Arriving in the damp and dark, we found it was a locked gate with several buildings behind. Exiting residents let us in, but warned there were 3 buildings labelled A B and C that were all number 26. We got into the shelter inside the doorway of A. Someone showed us the button to press to get out. I tried phoning the contact number and left a message in dodgy French. Shane tried messaging and got a prompt reply saying he needed to log into a website. The online form had many questions and included requests for photos of his passport. Then we got a code to a keybox but also the information that the key was in another street so it was back into the rain. It felt like the crystal maze. We found the street and door in the photo - but still couldn't find the keybox, at the house number given, and the photo was of the house opposite it. It was feeling rather unbelievable and it was a bit of a worry on a rainy night to think we might have to start searching for accommodation. However, a man across the street saw us and asked what we were looking for and to our surprise he located the key box locked to a railing right beside the door we had been at. He must have seen it before. Hurrah! Once we had the key we hurried back. We succeeded in gaining entry to building C.

Puzzled by the odd instructions Shane studied them again and found that if he scrolled to the bottom of the photo, the railing was clearly visible, with a red circle round the attached keybox. In the panic he hadn't looked at the whole picture. 

I put my soggy socks on the radiator and we sat down for a calming/warming drink before making a further foray outside, finding a cosy restaurant selling local specialities. And very delicious they were too. 

In the morning I set off for the Boulangerie but opened the wrong glass exit door and found myself facing a garden door, not the front door. I was between two glass doors. I turned to go back to discover there was no handle on the door I had come through. I couldn't get back in. The way into the garden was a one way door with a bar release that ressembled a fire exit. I had no idea if the garden had an exit or indeed if that was locked too. I tried ringing Shane to get him to open the inner door but there was no signal. I called and knocked on the glass, but nobody came. Eventually I set off out to look for a gate, hoping it wouldn't set off an alarm. While I explored a woman came out the same way and when I asked if she had a key, to get back in, she said she didn't and it was not a way in. I followed her to an exit on to another street, trying to explain my situation in faltering French and get my bearings. She recognised where I had been aiming for she was able to identify my entrance gate and was surprised when I said I didn't want to get in just now, I was heading to find a Boulangerie first. It was all too much, before breakfast! Still we had found the citizens of Lille helpful and the nearby boulangère was very cheerful.

We set off after breakfast to go up the tower, known as the Belfroi, which had been closed before, only to find it was closed again until late in the day, so we headed out of town for the art gallery in Roubaix. I had been to before, but Shane had not. I knew he would enjoy getting to use the public transport. On the way we saw an impressive library. Edinburgh university library looks like a licorice allsort.

Shane had the fun of working out the metro ticket system. I knew it had been tricky last time. On arrival in Roubaix it all looked different, with circus vehicles all around the main square. Shane was an able navigator as usual.

I remembered the main hall and the cubicle side galleries of La Piscine, but not the sound effects of children playing and splashing that came on periodically. I knew there were a lot of nudes. Handel was appropriately placed beside the water, and also appropriately dressed.

The lion and tiger fighting were fearsome, but the suckling kittens were not at all threatening, though the swan and snake were a lot less relaxed.

The nudes didn't stop the gallery having a school trip in. I don't think I got much in the way of art appreciation in school. We got techniques and craft but not much about artists. It is possible these were old enough to have chosen art as a subject, but there had been a group in the Grenoble gallery of primary aged pupils.

It was a strong memory that on my previous visit we had missed the serving of dinner, between 12 and 2, so we made sure to get there on time. The restaurant was packed. Unusually we chose the same thing but didn't regret it. The pie was really delicious. Beer, dessert and coffee were all in the price of the "formule du jour".

We went upstairs after lunch and saw a good deal of clothing from the art deco era including swimwear. It was another great way to view the main gallery too.

There was a treat in store for Shane. On the way back he got in the front carriage of the metro and he took a seat where he could see the cables and lights rushing past. I didn't think it was very pretty.

A much prettier scene was ahead. We got off a stop early see the art work that Shane had noticed on the way in. Most stops were very plain but one had gobsmacking murals. It was another world, or a gare to the rest of the world.

I was starting to doubt we would ever get up the tower but third time lucky, fourth for me, we got in. I could hardly believe it. I was also surprised that there was a (slightly) reduced fee for over 62s, though I thought it would have been polite for the young man to feign amazement, rather than fobbing off any attempt to prove my eligibility, as I started to pull out my passport. We climbed half way and it was explained we could use the lift but climb we did and got glimpses of the Porte de Paris from windows on the way up.

The view of the tower as we walked away was as impressive as the view from the top.

It was a very satisfactory conclusion to our anniversary trip. We had an easy return to Edinburgh the next day. We had a bonus lunch in London with Shane's brother Roy and his wife Mandy, who treated us to most tasty tapas.

Like Lille and Grenoble, the town centre was lit up and getting the Christmas vibe. I don't start to think about Christmas before the anniversary trip is over. I was still not ready for it. Clearly others were. Walking down the road I saw a cherry picker but they were not decorating outside but doing some pruning. It was a gusty day and the man in the branches was not happy. I hope he was strapped securely.

I was amazed at how many plants were looking lively, flowering or jolly berries. It didn't seem drab. The winter berries at a lower level were unbelievable, so many they were squished together.

A few houses had Christmas trees, and of course businesses were in full festive decoration.  I had an early December screening mammogram to attend. Was it really 3 years since the last one? On the way there I admired an art deco building with gold highlights. No Christmas decorations just a spot of green and gold paint all year. It still looked forbidding at the same time, though might be the weather. When it was all light honey coloured stone it must have been a beacon of light, just as a library should be.

I have no reason to be concerned about the scan, apart from the discomfort, but, if I had, passing this side street on the way would not be comforting.

I was further distracted by a business with a Christmas tree in the window, that I did not expect to ooze an aura of Christmas cheer. The Scotmid funeral directors in Angle Park Terrace had bowed to the pressure of the festive season but kept it at a less gaudy level. They stuck with white lights and a white snow stencilled window, maintaining a sombre look.

I reached my pressing engagement dead on time and was seen promptly with regular reminders to let her know if it became "too uncomfortable". Results are promised in three weeks but I suspect they will be delayed by the Christmas post.

I took a different route home and got a view of the canal from one of the bridges. No boats to see in this stretch - in fact not many people either.

I could now look forward to more jolly events. I had a cocktail night with ex - colleagues and got a table booked. We were squeezed in - they were certainly busy. A last minute call to go clubbing after took me by surprise as I was already on my way but CC Blooms didn't demand a sparkly dress code. We all got home on the last buses. Just as well as I had an early start the next day.

I had organised myself a trip north to go to a Carol Concert. I had thought to see my sister in Haddo House choir, but she directed me in stead to an NHS choir that her daughter-in-law was in, performing on the same day. I set off for the Ember bus with excitement and pink prosecco packed. I had a fun time in mind as I  hurried to my stop. I was getting properly into the festive spirit this weekend.

En route I was surprised to pass another Scotmid funeral directors that was going for brighter festive decorations. It seemed a tricky line of business to be doing this but they had recognised this can be a hard time of year and despite being bauble bedecked, it was dubbed a Christmas Tree of Remembrance.