Clearly my 365 exists only as a means of procrastination; my week off school and my blog ‘lay’ neglected but now the marking mountain presents its Himalayan peak… I return to the laptop…
345: Monday:Grateful for the freedom that school holidays bring; that I yet again fell asleep on the sofa is worrying: that RPJ made his explosive exit from Spooks made for a tearful bedtime!
346:Tuesday: A brunch with a friend that allowed us to indulge in a little ‘this is what we were doing last year in NYC’ chat. An unusual theatre trip (no rest for the wicked, Drama teachers included) to a circus style performance of A Midsummer Night’s Dream: was entertaining if at times incomprehensible; and faced with a pupil’s very raw ‘He dumped me!’ heartbreak I was, for once, grateful to be 29 and single!
347: Wednesday: I’m firmly in the school of belief that enjoyment is 50% anticipation: spent the day packing and planning for Paris and the afternoon with take-out cappucinoand another Spooks episode: glory be for BBC Iplayer.
(This trip like New York before it, may possibly get a too long, blog all of its own, but until then…)
348: Thursday: Paris was as beautiful as my distant school trip nostalgia had remembered it. The cold wind and rain meant that our bus trip was not on the open, upper deck; but dinner and desert was a thing of splendour: beautiful beaujolais and a chocolate mousse large enough to feed a small village was all the more enchanting because it was served by a French waiter of Greek god good looks.
349: Friday: Paris is study in juxtaposed contrasts; had been disappointed that Mum and I hadn’t made it to Montematre the night before; but had forgotten just how blue Paris’ red light district was. The chance to rediscover (and light a candle) in the ethereal Sacre Coeur was spiritually uplifting and humbling all at the same time…an unusual sensation for an agnostic should be Presbyterian.
The Louvre is as the guide book described ‘exhausting and overwhelming’: I was much more impressed by the Venus de Milo than the Mona Lisa- what is that girl smiling about?
Finding our gourmet river cruise was a challenge: yet the five ‘taster starters’, the cooked to perfection main course and three petit but perfect deserts (and yet again the wine) made for a gastronomic delight; and further proof that all French waiters have graduated from charm school and only wait tables in the time they have between modelling jobs.
A scary walk home through the almost deserted streets near the Gare du Nord reminded me that even in a city as beautiful as this one made me extremely grateful to reach our cheap but cheerful hotel; but acted as a reminder that ‘Carrie Travels the World (alone)’ is not a witty travelogue, I’ll ever write.
350: Saturday: Another day, another art museum: the D’Orsay was much more my style and the Monet, Picasso and Van Gogh as enchanting as ever: I spend my time in art galleries wishing Tony or Liza were there too: as my friendly guide to the art that engages me but I feel I fail to truly understand.
Saturday night was our planned brush with culture; we had tickets to see the ballet at Palais Garnier. In a beautiful city; this was the most beautiful building I’ve ever been in; this is a theatre for the Gods as they existed in the beginnings of Greek civilisation (the luxury was opulent, overwhelming and while it required a turning off of the social conscience: I enjoyed my champagne and a glance at how the other half lives). However I’d been fighting a cold all week, making me less than wonderful travelling company for my ever understanding Mother. I confess I was the girl in the cheap, cramped, horrifyingly hot seats at ‘Les Enfants du Paradis’ who coughed through the entirety of the first act. We left at the interval: my claustrophobia as overwhelming as my fellow patrons desire to choke the last breath from my wheezing chest.
351: Sunday: all good things must come to an end: home and reality beckoned. I’m grateful for a hassle free journey; for Mum’s quiet but comfortingly constant company and for all the delights the City of Light had to offer. But I came home to an email I wasn’t expecting…it helped chase the blues away.
352: Monday: a stressful school day that made me question if the week away had happened at all…reality bites with sharp and blood thirsty teeth. But the frantic morning of rehearsal scheduling will hopefully mean; the cogs will turn and this week will be as productive as it truly needs to be.
