Tag Archives: Seasonal Affective Disorder

A Rainy Winter’s Day in Paris

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It’s Saturday and I’m back in Paris at last. The scaffolding has been removed from our windows so we decide to replace some of our house plants because I’m not the only one to have suffered from Seasonal Affective Disorder. We go down our four flights of stairs with the shopping trolley and discover it’s spitting. Neither of us wants to walk back up for an umbrella. I have a hood and Relationnel has a hat. That will have to do.

Plants suffering from SAD
Plants suffering from SAD

We walk down Rue de Rivoli to the end of the Louvre then turn right towards Quai de la Megisserie. On our left we see a brass band and some sort of stall being set up in front of the Town Hall. It looks as though the neighbourhood association (1er arrondissement) is going to be handing out galettes des rois. If you don’t know what they are, you can read my last year’s post, Galette des Rois – King’s Cake. We decide we’ll check in on the way back, despite my diet.

Quai de la Mégisserie
Quai de la Mégisserie

It’s winter of course so most of the traditional pet and plant shops don’t have much out on the pavement and the largest, Vilmorin, is closed for renovation. Relationnel wants to find a new fern to replace the one he loves best which I think is a fishbone fern. We also need a bird’s nest fern and at least one other plant. None of the stores has a fishbone but we buy a bird’s nest and another plant at Casa Nova and Relationnel sees two little maidenhairs that he wants. I object because, in my experience, they keel over within weeks of buying them.

Meat is a profession
Meat is a profession

He insists however so we get them. We decide to go and get the car and go to Truffaut, an enormous nursery on the other side of town. We go past the Town Hall again and there are lots of people eating galette  and drinking cider and hot chocolate while the band is playing a catchy tune in the background. There’s a big banner up on the Town Hall that mysteriously says “La viande est un métier” (Meat is a profession).

I nearly crack my tooth on the fève, which is a tiny red handbag of all things. I go and claim my reversible crown (Reine on one side and Roi on the other which I’ve never seen before!). A lady comes up to me and asks to see my fève obviously very sad she didn’t get one herself but I don’t hand it over because I want to add it to my collection.

Fraussie gets the fève!
Fraussie gets the fève!

We move off and go past a bag and luggage store which is having its after-Christmas sales and buy a suitcase with four wheels to replace the one that disappeared on our way back from Australia, plus a  cabin bag to match. I’ve been wanting a four-wheel model for a while. I love the way people just glide them effortlessly along the ground. We chose dark red so the suitcase will stand out better than black on the carousel and not get pinched again.

Jazz band in front of the Louvre on Place du Palais  Royal
Jazz band in front of the Louvre

As we reach Place du Palais Royal, just opposite the Louvre, we hear more music. It’s a jazz band this time with a big pink and white tuba. They’re all clowing around and enjoying themselves. The classical orchestra that is often on nearby Place Colette hasn’t made an appearance. I guess they were put off by the rain which fortunately has ceased.

Shiny new plants
Shiny new plants

At Truffaut, there is a still no fishbone fern, so Relationnel very reluctantly settles for another kind instead. I promise to cut the old one right back and see if some TLC and a lot of light (in my office) will revive it. We get home and replace all the dead plants, taking particular care when replanting the maidenhairs. I’ll let you know how long I manage to keep them alive!

SAD No Longer

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It was very comforting to have so many people commisserating with me during my attack of SAD, alias Seasonal Affective Disorder, winter depression and light deprivation disorder, with lots of helpful comments both on the blog and on Facebook. You’ll be pleased to hear it is OVER. I probably could have avoided it to some extent if I had been expecting it to happen.  First, I would not have left my vitamin D in Blois and second, I would have made sure I went out each day to at least partly counteract the lack of light.

View from my temporary office window
Sun streaming through my temporary office window

Now that we are back in Blois, even though I have been working like crazy to catch up with the translations I didn’t do when I was feeling so depressed, and incidentally suffering from RSI (repeated strain injury) in my mouse-hand, the light streaming through the window of my temporary office seems to have done the trick. I’ve now caught up and can devote the rest of the week to helping Relationnel with the fireplace so that we can celebrate New Year before we leave on 7th January.

Winter jasmin and roses
Winter jasmin and roses

More news on the progress of the fireplace soon!

View from the kitchen

View from the kitchen windows on a sunny morning
Winter pansies and sweet mock orange (hydrangea philadelphus)
Winter pansies and a flowering laurel on a sunny afternoon

 

SAD and Au Vieux Campeur

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I don’t know if displaced tropical Queenslanders are more likely to suffer from SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder or Winter Depression) than others but I can’t find any other explanation for having felt so down this week. Already the days are short (it’s only light from 9 am to 5 pm max) but the scaffolding on the balcony cuts out most of what natural light there is and gives artificial neon light from 8 am until 7 pm. The flower seller at the market found me so down on Sunday that he gave me a kitchy little pot of four-leaf clover!

Four-leaf clover to cheer me up
Four-leaf clover to cheer me up

Relationnel was told the scaffolding was moving to the next set of windows today so about 10.30 am, I went downstairs to find some workmen to ask. They reassured me it was D-Day so I raised my arm and said “yey!”. They looked a little surprised so I explained that they were my windows that had been obscured for the last four months.

The scaffolding outside my window
The scaffolding outside my window

The sun was out, the sky was blue and just going downstairs seemed to cheer me up so I thought I’d go to Rue de Rennes to look after the missing suitcase invoice problem. First stop was a shoe shop called Arcus. I gave them the date and amount. They were very friendly and immediately tracked down the purchase and gave me a receipt.

The scaffolding seen from downstairs
The scaffolding seen from downstairs

Then I walked down to Boulevard Saint Germain to one of the Au Vieux Campeur shops. Parisians swear by this shop, though I don’t really understand why. It used to be just one shop on rue des Ecoles selling outdoorsey stuff. It is now a series of speciality shops – 29 in the Latin quarter alone – selling everything to do with sport and camping.

My objection, apart from the prices, is that the shops I go to (mainly for walking shoes) are always full of people. I spent a full hour trying on every possible pair of shoes in the shop before we went to Australia in September. I finally bought some ugly looking turquoise and grey shoes that gave me horrendous blisters in Tasmania. And then, when I had finally worn them in, they disappeared with the suitcase!

An unknown church on the way from rue de Rennes to boulevard Saint Germain

So I went back to the shop where I bought them, stood in line and asked for a receipt. I was sent to the “main shop”, two streets away. I queued there as well only to be told that I had to go back to the first shop. The lady rang up the guy and told him he had to give me a receipt. I went back and stood in line and gave him the details. He couldn’t find my purchase of course. “What time was it?” You gotta be joking – I’m supposed to remember the time I bought the shoes? I only know I was there for too long.

He finally sats it is not in his cash register. “Is this the only place I could have paid for the shoes I got downstairs?” “No”, he says relunctantly, “there are those two as well”, indicating a couple of computer screens further along the counter. “You mean, these three cash registers are not connected up ?” “Er, no.” “Are you telling me I have to wait until there are two more sales people to check?” “Well, I could turn them on.” Which he eventually did and I queued again while he served another few people.

The bistrot with the awful food - Le Cluny
The bistrot with the awful food – Le Cluny

Not that I blame him, it must have been very annoying for the other customers. Anyway, he still couldn’t find any trace of my purchase so I dispiritedly went out, by which time the rain was absolutely pouring down and I didn’t have an umbrella. I took refuge in the closest brasserie, Le Cluny, and ate an absolutely awful meal of spare ribs and potatoes. The young waiter commisserated and gave me a free coffee.

So, here I am, back home, still waiting for the scaffolding to move and it’s already 4.30, which is terribly close to knock-off time.

Next day’s update: removal of the scaffolding is now postponed to 7th January.

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