FRENCH NEWS - in English of course. Politics, sports, reviews, travel, a slice of life in France and stories you might not necessarily be able to find elsewhere on the Net.
It happened just over a month ago as unsuspecting shoppers at The Welland Seaway Mall in southern Ontario were "flash mobbed".
No that's not some sort of perverse sexual behaviour but an occasion when "a large group of people assemble (apparently) suddenly in a public place, perform an unusual act for a brief time and then disperse."
The woman who got the "show on the road" (screenshot from YouTube video)
It's a trend that has more than taken off in recent years in towns and cities around the world, and quite often videos find their way on to YouTube where they frequently "go viral".
A recent such example was on November 13 as "unsuspecting shoppers in the food court of Welland's Seaway Mall got a big surprise while enjoying their lunch".
And it was a seasonal one at that as over 100 participants performed the "Hallelujah" chorus from Handel's "Messiah".
As the organisers said on the video (proving they're Canadian?) "Awesome".
After nine months of running tests, a team of researchers in France has confirmed that a head that went missing a couple of centuries ago and only resurfaced recently is indeed that of one of the country's most respected Kings, Henri IV.
The tale of how the head went missing in the first place is of course bound up with French history.
The potted version for the non-history buffs (although those who wish to dig a little deeper could start off with Wikipedia).
Henri IV reigned from August 2, 1589 until May 14, 1610 and (among other things) is perhaps best remembered for enacting the Edict of Nantes which "guaranteed religious liberties to French Protestants (Huguenots)" which had been under threat from the country's Catholics during the Wars of Religion from 1562 until 1598.
As was the fate of many a French monarch, Henri IV was assassinated, and buried in the Basilique Saint-Denis, a Cathedral in what is now a northern suburb of Paris and one that became the final resting place of French Kings and Queens throughout the centuries.
And that was where his body (head included) lay until 1793 when French revolutionaries, not satisfied with having executed the then-monarch Louis XVI, ran amok at the Basilique, opening tombs and reburying royal bodies in mass graves nearby.
It was then, of course, that the head of Henri IV did its disappearing act only apparently to resurface in the hands of a private collector (yikes, there really are such people) recently (remember this is the potted version) and be put up for rigorous testing by a team led by Philippe Charlier, a forensic medical examiner and osteo-archaeologist at the University hospital Raymond-Poincaré in the Parisian suburb of Garches.
Those tests included "radiocarbon dating with 2-sigma calibration" (are you paying attention?) which, according to a paper published by Charlier's team in the latest edition of the British Medical Journal (BMJ) "yielded a date of between 1450 and 1650 nicely bracketing the year of Henri IV’s death" (oh the joys of scientists writing papers for other scientists).
In fact for the full explanation of how they used a combination of "anthropological, paleopathological, radiological, forensic, and genetic techniques" to confirm that the embalmed head was indeed that of Henri IV, take a wander over to the BMJ.
The long and the short of it is that the "irregular mole they identified on the right nostril and an earring hole in the right earlobe" both matched features seen in portraits and statues of Henry IV and the said head is that of Henri le Grand (one of his nicknames).
The timing of the confirmation couldn't have been better because, if you've been paying attention to your dates, this year marked the 400th anniversary of his death.
And plans are afoot (or should that read "can now go ahead"?) next year for a national Mass and funeral to be held for Henry IV, during which his head will once again be laid to rest alongside this country's former monarchs in the Basilique Saint-Denis.
Not all is well with the town of Annecy, that picturesque "Venice of the Alps" in the Rhône-Alpes region of southeastern France.
Or at least not when it comes to its hopes for hosting the Winter Olympics in 2018.
Because on Sunday, Edgar Grospiron, the head of the bid committee, resigned.
Happier days when Edgar Grospiron was still "proud and enthusiastic" at being the head of the bid committee (screenshot from TV8 Mont-Blanc, February 2010)
His decision of course was all about money.
The former Olympic champion quit his post because as far as he was concerned, the €20 million budget simply wasn't enough.
“I cannot win the Games with the budget we have and in the time remaining,” he said.
Proof once again that when it comes to the Olympics - whether they're the Summer or Winter games - cash (along with lobbying) is arguably one of the most important factors.
Of course the French Olympic Committee (Le Comité national olympique et sportif français, CNOSF) attempted to play down what was undoubtedly a blow.
Its president, Denis Masseglia, said that a successor would be appointed within the next couple of days and Grospiron would still be helping out in an advisory role.
"We continue (our bid) with humility and authenticity," he said in what is surely just another way of admitting that he didn't really hold much hope of Annecy being chosen.
Mind you Masseglia's rather noble sentiment was one echoed by the newly appointed minister of sports, Chantal Jouanno, in an interview with the national daily Le Parisien.
She, of course, was disappointed in the wake of Grospiron's resignation, but also called for "commitment and dignity."
"The French are often their own worst enemies," she admitted.
"Now is the time to look forward rather than back and to roll up our sleeves," she continued, sounding more like a typical sports journalist with every word.
"Withdrawal isn't an option. We have to defend the image of France and follow through the bid to its end with dignity especially as its (Annecy's) bid isn't a bad one."
Her solution? Lobbying and communication.
Ah, that's the spirit. Time to stand up and sing La Marseillaise.
Somehow though the smart money (yep it's hard to get away from the "filthy lucre") is on the other two cities bidding to host the 2018 Games; fellow European rival Munich and South Korea's Pyeongchang, which is making its third consecutive attempt to host the Games.
The International Olympic Committee will select the host city at a meeting in Durban, South Africa, on July 6, 2011.
The last time France staged the Winter Games was in Albertville in 1992.
The CNOSF awarded Annecy the right to bid on behalf of France back in March last year and (to any reasonable thinking person) the town has been considered an outsider from the outset.
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