Nothing brings home one’s own mortality than traipsing over the remains of those that have gone before,especially in such a grandiose environment,then washing it all down with burger,chips and a bottle of 1664.Mind you I am also about to have some home made apple crumble so maybe I am immortal after all,or at least I will feel that way after the finest of desserts known to man and beast…as expected the apple crumble was excellent and I am obviously now a god…
Seriously though Pere Lachaise is a wonderful spot to spend an hour or so grazing the graves & mausoleums.Some of those edifices are incredible,it also brings home how much money some of these families had( or have,it’s not a museum as people are still being buried there) One spot was covered in what looked like dozens of fresh laid floral tributes and the pictures on the grave was of a vibrant young woman cut down in her prime.Sadly my thoughts turned to my sister Liz who was also vibrant and cut down in what could have been her prime had maybe her personal demons not been so,well,demonic…this I think probably made me a bit maudlin.Sorry…
After a stroll of about a mile I find myself in Ménilmontant,my stamping ground from last summer.Gone into the bar where I watched a few French Euro games and they still have the 15-00/23-00 happy hour( which is stretching the concept a bit) and their impossibly high urinal for a shortarse like me,just the one mind,this is a French bar needless to say…nice to see the place again and the grumpy big as a house barman.Now to take a walk back to Gambetta which is about a mile & half and mostly uphill.I’d be kidding myself this is all good for me…phew that was a bit of a trek but now I’m back in my local definitely worth it.The road is called Rue des Pyrenees for a reason…
Right then you lovely people this is my last blog from That There Paris for a while.Been a great ten days.Not gonna say I needed the break cos’ that would imply I’ve been working my fingers to the bone but it was nice to be in a different environment.My only regret is I never got a Jane Birkinesque local to coquettishly run her fingers through my hair…incidentally Serge Gainsborough really got the best deal out of that relationship…
But anyway Paris? Been great,the locals have been fine.Not particularly small talk friendly but that’s ok as frankly it can be a chore especially at my age,but I have been met with kindness and good humour.Our French neighbours ain’t nowhere near as bad as we paint them you know…I think some people don’t want to come to France as they believe the tripe that all Frenchies are rude,arrogant and will give you a hard time but in my experience that’s bullshit.Be polite,say Bonjour,s’il vous plait,merci and au revoir and it’ll get you a long way…
One last thing: Whilst the Channel Tunnel is a marvel of civic engineering,a true marvel of our times,the truth is it can be dull as ditch water going through it so why don’t Eurostar ( or whoever owns it) get some graffiti artists to go nuts? There could be fluorescent shipwrecks,cartoon desert islands with one tree surrounded by sand,even the odd kraken seemingly attacking the train.All sorts of possibilities to cheer the regular travellers and right royally put the shits up the first timers…
On that happy thought au revoir and next stop Blighty…
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