Paris #1

It's been a while. (Luckily, due to having only 2 followers, my embarrassing hiatus went largely unnoticed.)

I'm currently living in Paris, which seems to be a city of bloggers like no other. (I'll add some here when I have a chance.) On one hand it is completely understandable, as whenever you leave the house you see something curious, delightful, amusing, stimulating – something to write home about. I find myself scribbling down shop names on métro tickets, staring at something with a ridiculous grin, overhearing ludicrous conversations. But then it is so lovely here I don't know how people find the time to go home and type about a fantastic bakery they've found, and post photos of it, when I would probably still be in said bakery, brushing pastry flakes off my face and making a noise like a pig having an orgasm.

Several people have asked me if I have a "Paris blog" and though I am reluctant to create one – you know the type – red, white and blue colour scheme, photo of self by Eiffel Tower, name like C'est la vie! I do think it would be interesting to keep track of all the interesting things I am doing.

(Boring paragraphs over.)

I am starving, absolutely ravenous, literally going hungry in a garret; however, this is not because I am an attractive hollow-eyed street-sparrow but because I went to the Marché des Enfants Rouges for le brunch today ("The pâté is gorgeous, so fatty it melts in your mouth, have some.") We then got invited to a private clothes sale in a nearby apartment (complete with baby being changed, madeleines and grapes and plums on the table, roof-top-view). As always, when I've decided not to buy anything I just went silly and dressed up as a chimney sweep, grabbing some tweedy Vivienne Westwood red label trousers and a soft white shirt. I came home with both. These trousers are, as George would say in Blackadder III, a magnificent pair of trousers. They make my bottom look like une pomme and give me a slightly unladylike edge. Wow, I love these trousers.

Spending money (even €30 - bargain) on designer trousers instead of food and transport is not good for my bank balance, though, so I then walked all the way home to the 19e. It took me about two hours and though I picked up two aging melons (lol) I couldn't bring myself to go to Monoprix, and re-spend the money I should have spent on food but actually spent on trousers.

Other exciting Parisian things I've done this week would fill a much longer post, but I have to include the Fête des Vendanges in Montmartre, a cross between a Harvest Festival and a Christmas Market, only with fewer shit decorations and fudge stalls and more intoxicated singing and foie gras sandwiches. I wandered around in a lovestruck haze sipping a flûte de champagne and swerving occasionally to avoid the predatory Turkish men circling the drunken crowds. The fireworks were some of the most fantastic I've ever seen, or maybe they were just nearer. There didn't seem to be any impractical health and safety legislation in place. Had a few beers and some sushi with the boys and returned chez moi. (God, it feels good to say that. It's so relaxing to have some stability in my life at last, after a summer of not-bad-but-not-good transition.)

We'll see if this works out. Give it a week or two. If it does, we may go so far as to incorporate some French (!!!). À plus.