Scorcio! Scorcio! Scorcio maximo! Just back from a few days in Paris with Ben, Brex-Anna and Max where it was blisteringly, swelteringly hot but somehow, we still managed to have a great time.
We set off on an early(ish) train from Banbury on Monday morning and made our way to St Pancras where we eventually boarded the Eurostar for Paris. If we had been in any doubt, the boarding procedure ensured that we were well reminded of the shitstorm that is Brexit. In years gone by we would simply wave our passports at the friendly border personnel and go on our way. Now that the UK has “taken back control” of its borders we had to endure an hour in the queue while everyone’s passports were checked and stamped – and this was to leave the UK! The process coming back was even worse.
The journey on Eurostar, once we cleared the quagmire that British immigration has become, was very pleasant, very comfortable, very smooth and very quick. Max, as most of you will know, is train-obsessed and this was a very exciting adventure for him. Actually, the whole day was a train-lover’s delight – train from Banbury to London Marylebone, underground from Marylebone to St Pancras, Eurostar from St Pancras to Gare du Nord and then the Paris underground from Gare du Nord to the Voltaire metro stop. What an adventure!
Brex-Anna had arranged our accommodation in Paris and it was very nice – an “architect’s loft” in the 11th Arrondissement about a five-minute walk from the Metro. The apartment was typically wacky French, apparently designed and renovated by the architect owner. I presume they do have some sort of building regulations in France but it’s clear that these are not always adhered to – I suspect with self-build projects the French just make it up as they go along. In particular, this place had stairs and steps leading everywhere, several of which were distinctly uneven – the first step might be two or three inches while the last step might be a foot or more. Fortunately, no one stumbled and hurt themselves but I think each of us stumbled at one time or another. Still, in spite of its wackiness it was very comfortable and perfectly adequate for our needs.
No sooner had we settled in then we were off again – more metro rides, this time to the Eiffel Tower. Brex-Anna had secured some fast-track tickets and we were soon whizzing our way to the summit. The views from the top are, of course, absolutely splendid.
Back to our neighbourhood and dinner in a local bistro, back to the apartment and within moments we were all snoring contentedly in our respective bedrooms.
I have to say Max was sensational – long queues in the morning, long queues (even with the fast-track tickets) at the Eiffel Tower, lots of walking in sweltering heat – he did remarkably well for a four-year-old. The only thing that put his nose slightly out of joint was the mist delicately being sprayed to keep folks cool at the café at which we stopped for a cold drink prior to the Eiffel Tower adventure.
And, he did even better the following day. Brex-Anna had organised a walking food tour of Montmartre and, while this appealed to me in spades, there wasn’t that much to keep Max entertained. Still, he soldiered on bravely – I think there may have been some small bites of chocolate to keep him going.
The tour was very interesting and the guide was very personable and charming. As well as tasting some lovely things, I also learned quite a bit. E.g., I did not know that croissants were not originally French. They were developed in Austria and were brought to France by some king or other. However, the French were not capable, initially, of producing the layered flaky pastry which make croissants croissants. So, naturally, whichever king it was simply brought pastry chefs from Vienna to teach the French how to make croissants. Also, I had always assumed that one of my favourite Renoir paintings, The Dance at the Moulin de la Galette, was of the very famous square in Montmartre, the Place du Tertre. Oh non, monsieur. Rather, the painting depicts a dance in the garden of a restaurant just around the corner from the Place du Tertre. The clue is in the name – Moulin de la Galette. You all might have already known that.
We had a very pleasant bite to eat at La Mère Catherine. Founded in 1793, it is one of the oldest restaurants in Paris and a plaque at its entrance gives a folk etymology of the word “bistro”: that on March 30, 1814, while a group of Russian soldiers were dining at Mère Catherine, they asked for drinks, bistro, Russian for “quickly”. Thereafter, “bistro” became a description of a restaurant where you could get food or drink quickly. You learn something new every day.
After lunch, the tour finished, inevitably, at Sacré-Cœur where we were able to indulge Max’s train/railway obsession with yet another variation – the Funiculaire de Montmartre which took us from the top of the hill to the bottom. A splendid, splendid day.
Dinner that night was at Orgueil just a few doors down from the apartment which was terrific. A selection of “little plates” which were so tasty we didn’t have room for dessert! Quelle merde!
Our train back to the UK wasn’t until just after 4.00 in the afternoon on Wednesday so we had a morning to kill. We decided to make our way to the Jardin des Tuileries for a stroll and, for Max’s benefit, a visit to the fun fair and a ride on the big wheel.
Back to the apartment to grab our bags and on to the Gare du Nord for the return journey. Ninety minutes waiting in the queues to go through immigration again – I’m so glad we took back control so that it can take about 85 minutes longer to get through – and we were soon on our way speeding back to London. Another brief journey on the underground to Marylebone and we were back in Banbury about 7.30. An absolutely splendid couple of days.
Back in the UK and the fun didn’t stop there! On Thursday we set off for the UK National Space Centre in Leicester which was terrific. Nick had organised this and we met him, Lucy and Annabelle as well as Adam, Ava, Jessica and Julieta there. Lots of artefacts, lots of history but most importantly, lots of buttons to press and levers to pull. Great fun!
As I said, Paris was swelteringly hot – temperatures up around 100o F. The 70ish degree temperatures we returned to felt decidedly fresh in comparison. Still, while it’s very pleasant, we’ve had no rain for months. Two of the regional water boards have introduced hose pipe bans and, for the first time in known history, the source of the River Thames has dried up! Hmm, perhaps we ought to do something about this climate change thing people keep talking about.
Meanwhile, keep happy, keep smiling, be careful, wear a f**king facemask in crowded places and keep your distance. And keep safe. And be gentle to wasps and bees.
Lots of love to you all,
Greg