In France by default

How do you travel the world without amassing a huge carbon footprint? Nicola, Pete, Lola and Nell have found a way. This time we're off to France via Crystal Palace, south London.

I always moan that I won't go south of the River Thames (showing me to be spoilt, misguided and lacking an A-Z), but somehow last Saturday involved a journey from up north to Crystal Palace and back; and later on from up north to Brixton and back. Quel horreur! (excuse my French and spelling).

You see with St Pancras station so close I've been revelling in the fact that Paris is now nearer than Clapham. It's definitely nearer than Crystal Palace. However the house warming we've been invited to is in SE19 so, reluctantly, I decide we're going to make a family trip. Passports optional.

Of course the party is a joy. Lots of delicious warm cider, fabulous eats, kids for the kids to play with, grown ups to catch up with, views to die for out of every window (including a big dog fox in the garden). And it turns out that this may not be France, but it is a petit France. Jess and Tim's friendly neighbour is not just French but a Francophile Crystal Palace tour guide. It turns out that the Impressionist Pissarro used to paint around here - including Sydenham station.

While the French novelist Emile Zola escaped imprisonment for his "libellous" reporting of the controversial Dreyfus case (which kicked off in 1894 and lasted until 1906) by coming to London and staying at Queen's Hotel, 122 Church Road nearby (and not far from Fox Hill, see photo*). Zola lived at the hotel from 1898-99, a residence remembered by a blue plaque. I'd love to find out what he thought of London then. You can find out more about Dreyfus and Zola's masterful newspaper piece, J'accuse here.

The all-things-French base may have moved towards South Ken some decades (centuries!) ago, but on the right day (30C in the shade sipping dry white wine talking philosophy and the latest doings of Jean-Yves Katalan) Crystal Palace might easily be mistaken for France.

And actually it didn't take that long to get here, thanks to the overland from Victoria station.

* The snap is of one of the area's most desirable streets - prettily named, and with a woodland walk just strides away.

Foxes at dawn

Pete, Nicola, Lola, 9, and Nell, 6, spent three happy months during the summer of 2007 traveling around Britain. Now we’re home but the travel bug is still there. Join us for occasional sightseeing plus tips on how to shrink your carbon footprint…

London seems as noisy as ever – but on week nights it’s not exuberant late night tube passengers that make all the din. Last night I was woken by the sort of whimpering that might make you dial 999, but on looking out of the window saw a vixen being hounded by two dog foxes.

Foxes aren’t unusual where we live in London, but seeing three adults was impressive enough for me to wake Lola and Nell for a good look – even though it was about 4.30am. From the window, and very sleepily, they stared at the quiet domestic streets lit as much by the nearly full moon as street lights expecting to see nothing and then were rewarded with a view of FIVE foxes at the junction of the streets as the vixen had two small cubs to look after ,as well as her two suitors to ward off/entertain. We had a happy 10 minute floor show until they all retired under parked cars which meant that we couldn’t see what was going on.

We admit it, we're rubber necks. Now foxes ignore us, and just do it again tonight. Thanks.