Alpine Mummy

A new life in the middle of nowhere


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It’s suppositories here, Madame, not Calpol

Considering we’re only a frog’s hop away from the UK, I’m always surprised by the (sometimes tiny, sometimes huge) differences in habits and culture and, well, just in the way things are done.  (Incidentally, I am compiling a list of those things which are better in France and those which are better in the UK, with a view to buying an island and founding my very own Franco-Anglo utopia combining the best of both worlds.  But that’s a blog for another day.)

In the meantime, a petit example of such a phenomenon presented itself the other week, when I finally managed to take Alpine Girl for her first vaccinations.

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This morning I went for a run

Watch out for all those other runners…

This morning I went for a run.  A very short run but a run nonetheless. The thing about going for a run in the mountains is, well, there’s mountains.  It’s not like in London where my running consisted of making a beeline for the river and then running as far as possible along it.  The thing about going for a run next to the Thames is, well, it’s flat.

A quick remark about my running ‘career’ perhaps.  I didn’t really do exercise.  A bit of cycling here and there, and some rollerblading, but nothing serious and certainly never any running.  Then, in 2004, I saw the London Marathon on TV.  That was it, I was going to run a marathon (there were fat people running the marathon! And old people! If they could do it so could I!).  Trainers and sports bra purchased and I was off.  For about 5 and a half minutes.  With Alpine Papa cycling next to me for ‘encouragement’ I made it back to the flat but I was not in good shape.  And I certainly hadn’t had fun.  I wasn’t convinced.

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Sleep. Or not.

Alpine Boy never slept through the night when he was little  (or at least not when it was my turn to get up during the night.  Imagine my joy when he starting sleeping through at six months.  Just when I went back to work, leaving Alpine Papa in charge of night-time feeds.  Of which there were none. Bah).  I assumed the same would be true for Alpine Girl, so was rather excited to discover that this one sleeps!  All the time!  Right from the start she was only waking up once a night, and as soon as we moved here she would sleep right through until 6.00 or 7.00am – my dream baby, excuse the pun (I am particularly fond of sleep, and have been all my life, as my family will attest).

So those occasions where Alpine Girl does in fact wake up in the middle of the night are an immense shock to the system.  Being violently woken up by screaming at 2.00 am is like being dragged out of a whirlpool by your hair – painful, noisy, you can’t open your eyes, and you just keep getting sucked back down.

And on top of that, we’re trying to get Alpine Boy to sleep without a nappy.  Which isn’t really working.  So last night went something like this: Continue reading