Christmas follies

We get alternating periods of mild weather and very cold snaps at the moment. Snow has sometimes been forecast but has not materialised. 

To this is added a season of strikes in Bordeaux' public transport that has led to some lines not running at all, remaining lines having decreased frequency and nothing at all after 9pm.

On Friday I was due at A Coeur Ouvert for the last day of opening at 10am. I left hoping to get tram C and walk through the Jardin Public. Tram D was not running. I waited at the tram stop. When the tram arrived it was already stuffed fuller of people than a can is of fish. 

I gave up and prepared to walk to A Coeur Ouvert - it would take perhaps a little over an hour. Then I remembered that bus 1 to the airport leaves from the station - a mere 8 minutes walk from our home - and passes within a 10 minute walk of ACO. At the station I found a handful of people waiting for the bus, and when it arrived I boarded with joy and sat down, with all the eschatological joy that that expression can carry.

Coming home - I pondered. Bus 1 would be full. I decided to bet everything on Tram C again, but to go to an unpopular stop - Jardin Public. I waited with almost nobody else until the tram arrived - once more stuffed with people. A friendly man hauled me on anyway and I managed to press in to enable the door to close.

Tram C empties in stages as it goes - some alighted at Quinconces only to be replaced by an equally numerous crowd. Porte de Bourgogne was better and from here I was seated. At the station almost everyone got off, so the last two stops were travelled in spacious luxury.

The unions want a pay rise of 6.5% - just under the current inflation rate of about 7%. They've been offered 4.5% now with a further 1.5% next July. Talks resume at lunchtime.

The strikes have dramatically reduced our festive activities. Last year I attended about four Christmas concerts. One was so good I went twice. All were free, too, or "libre participation", the passing of the hat.

This year I had carefully noted them in my diary but the prospect of walking home through freezing streets put us off going at all. No, I don't think it's our age.

It's also made Sundays somewhat difficult. Almost everyone comes by public transport, but when it comes every 36 minutes, or not at all, it renders life difficult.

Still, it could be worse. We could be in confinement!