Farewell Paris.

A long time has passed since my last entry. We have left Paris.


I was excited about moving back home and we had lots of places to visit and things to do before we left; some we did, such as seeing a play at the Comédie Française, some we didn't, such as having coffee and macarons at Ladurée but there is always the next time.. and I never did get to the very top of the Eiffel Tower. We tried on various occasions but were put off by the long queues. I do miss it, though. Sometimes it would shock you by suddenly appearing, massive and elegant, as you turned a corner.


I miss the beauty of the buildings, the style of just about everything from paper carrier bags to window displays, the elegance of Parisians, the wonderful restaurants where you can have a 4 course dinner with aperitif, half a bottle of wine and coffee for 32 euros, the world-class exhibitions, the metro, the basement at BHV and also my friends.



This group of friends cheered me up, invited me on outings, took me into their homes and taught me about Paris - and they learned a little English at the same time. We laughed at cultural differences, revealed while translating newspaper articles: the number between commas, after the name of ex-Mme Sarkozy in an account of her departure for America, was taken to be her flight number to the USA as it was unimaginable that a lady's age would be divulged for public consumption.

Welcome back to Anglo-Saxon directness .....or would that be ungraciousness ?

Calm down, calm down.

It was just a joke.

**!%^**!!??*?!!***

Words fail me...

Does he look sheepish or what ?

**!? What the ...??!

Is this just too much, dahlings?

Don't get me started on this ......

I've seen dogs in handbags, dogs in supermarket trolleys (in the FOOD compartment!), dogs in bread shops, dogs on buses, dogs in the metro (and just let your mind linger on the consequences of that...), dogs in restaurants attacking passing ankles from their hideout under the table but this was the one that did it.

She was sharing her food with it.

The dog is wearing a pearl necklace.

Would you like to sit on that barstool next?

Where do all the colours go?

This is the walk from the carpark to the market at Mèze. I can't tell you how different it is from my habitual walk to the market.

We're are just back from a fabulous week's holiday near Pézenas in Languedoc with friends. I was hoping for unseasonably cool weather and , by George, she got it! There was always a breeze but, when it did get hot, I had ways and means to keep out of the sun.
Our accommodation was on a wine-growing estate, now largely grubbed up as no longer a viable economic concern, and we were in one of the three newly renovated farm buildings. It was a treat for the eyes. Colours, flowers, birds, butterflies, Templar castles .... I am used to the greys and beiges of Paris and these wonderful sights were astonishing. No wonder Vincent went barmy after the grim skies of the Belgian coalmines.

We spent an enchanting hour/half hour? at this old cornmill next to a Roman bridge. There was silence, fishing, frequent flypasts by kingfishers and even a graceful passage of a blindingly white egret. Magical.


Back in Paris, and it hasn't stopped raining but that's fine. Sluice those pavements !

A nice bit of wrought iron.

There's nothing the French like more than a nice bit of wrought iron and I must admit that I'm a bit of a fan too. Roccoco overload is all right by me. This is the best example I have ever seen: fluid, elegant and functional. No way is anyone going to climb round or over this little lot.

If you go to see the film about Molière, you will recognise this.