It is to be expected, me hitting a low patch. Moving house is huge, moving country is stratospherically huge. I felt very rough when Finn headed back to his life in Estonia. It really helped having friends round for drinks, it helped having Liam’s birthday to celebrate and it helped going down to our fabulous neighbours for yet more drinks ( and figs stuffed with blue cheese). 

But what has really cheered me up was going to Paris!!! Liam had to go there for work, so I decided to go along for the ride, both literally and figuratively, because we were to drive his new work car back home, hundreds of miles.

We flew into Charles de Gaulle airport and then thought we’d simply plop onto a train and arrive at our destination- I am of the SatNav generation, after all. Hmmmm, its quite bewildering to arrive and try to fathom out where to go. We did get a lot of help and maps:

and as you can see, its similar to the London Underground. Blimey, look at one of the trains we went on:

The ceiling kept changing colour, like a disco train.

With Liam gone early the next day, I headed out intrepidly. I have been to Paris before, when I did my art course at college, but its a different buquet of grenouille when you are on your ownsome. I had decided not to do all the obvious stuff, having done Louvre etc before, but couldn’t resist hopping off the metro to snap the Eiffel Tower:

I then decided to head for Notre Dame, knowing that I could find the Left Bank from there. I thought it would be nice to stroll along the Seine…but the stroll turned me into a bright red, puffing sweatball, which was not the look I was cultivating at all!
I struggled with identifying where the entrance to the Metro is, I felt panicky by all the people and traffic and sank gratefully into a Pret a Manger for a restorative crayfish sandwich ( ècrevisse). And then I got it together. Got my Big Girl pants on, as my sister would say. A friendly taxi driver pointed out the metro and then I was by Notre Dame!

From there it was a totter over the road to…aahh.. the Shakespeare and Company Bookshop! I have been wanting to come here ever since I read about it ages ago and it didn’t disappoint:

I creaked up and down the rickety stairs, looked at sepia photos of famous literary figures ( its worth a quick google), gasped at the huge mark up on the prices, then went next door to the adjacent cafe and drank Earl Grey tea and read my book for ages, knowing that it was not only fine to do so, but everyone else was doing it too. That, incidentally, is a lovely thing about being by yourself; you can just plonk down and dive into a book:

I needed a restorative glass of rosé and a chat with my dad after that, and found the perfect pavement café. I do love the whole way you are treated here; you are welcomed and looked after so unobtrusively by the waiters that fetch your drinks to you, the bill madame? and it just is so nice.

Oh, drama!
The weather nosedived and I was forced to take shelter in Notre Dame while a storm raged. I sat quietly at the back as a mass took place and felt all Bridesheady. The lights were very pointedly dimmed after the service (time for God to go home?) and all of us were turfed out into the swirling rain. Bravely I found another bar and again got top service from the waiter and drank red wine till Liam turned up after work.
I showed him the sights, we had a so so fondue and french onignion soupe, with the stinkiest cheese toasts.. bleurgh..
The next day, hankering for green spaces, I headed for the 19th arrondissement, getting off at Stalingrad. I picked it because its a) less touristy b) has parks and c) has one of the pop up beaches. Oh joy, I had such a great time. To start with, the area feels a bit like Bristol Docks. I had coffee overlooking the water:

Then I found the beach. It lines both sides of the river and there was a pool the other side, and both sides had beach huts, deck chairs, sand, cafes, toddlers in stripy t shirts.  

I loitered here a fair while, read a bit more book, then went to find the Buttes Chaumont, which was leafy, had ducks and a great lake and a viewing point over Paris:

This was a very lovely way to spend my time. I simply wandered and passed strange sights

and a guy who was using a bench as a cooking table and had spread all his ingredients out and was chopping and frying and listening to the radio, in his own master chef bubble.

I reluctantly left this green lung and went to Montmartre and waited for Liam. I don’t know how I do it ..I found another nice waiter and drank lots of beer till Liam turned up. Its a hard life 😁

Montmartre is a bit touristy and the road leading up to the Sacre Coeur rivals Lourdes in tackiness, but the church is lovely:

We tipsily ate out at a posh very French eaterie and then, as luck would have it, found we were in the Red light district and stumbled across the real Moulin Rouge!

The next day we drove hundreds of miles back home. Our new car is awful. Its a temporary pool car and stinks of fags so was promptly christened Belle (French word for bin is Poubelle). Its covered in dings, so I can’t make it look any worse, I suppose. Still, she got us home.

Garden news: the yucca had her white flower then fell over in the same storm we had in Paris:

We’ve propped her up with the luggage trolley for now. And we have spotted three more shoots popping out of this yucca, then a whopper is emerging from the next yucca!! Liam collected our first walnut:

We had a brilliant day and evening with good friends of ours, Mike and Sabine, who drove all the way from La Grande Motte, a seaside town designed by architect Jean Balladur in the 70’s and has pyramids! We cooked fish stew on our stove in the garden and listened to music very loudly… because we can 😆