under another sun

The ghastly ducks quacking on Lorraine's phone this morning, and I slumped down to make us tea before our epic journey back to Blighty. A last pack and clear out, and then to the car. Dropped our recycling off, then Lorraine drove us to Nîmes under a leaden sky. Made excellent time, and despite being a bit stressed by having to buy petrol (first find a petrol station, which was tricky) and ridiculous things like having to queue for ages for the men's loos at the station, and finding it hard to get onto the platform, we made our train in time, and headed off to Paris. France for the most part swathed in low cloud, skimming the hills and blocking the views. The train did not serve coffee today, so we had a breakfast of coke and small pieces of cake. Made Paris Gare de Lyon on time, and then caught the metro up to Gare du Nord. Eventually we found the left luggage place, dropped our cases off there fore a few hours and sauntered out into Paris.  Ended up on the Rue du Faub...

Up with the sparrows after the kind of a fitful sleep you have when you know you are getting up early, and very kindly driven to Ashford Eurostar by Pete for just after 6.00pm, who had been watching the Olympic opening ceremony and was going to go back home and catch another half hour’s sleep before work.  Had a bite at the café there before going to the platform and boarding our train. A few thoughts about the excellence of the Eurostar tunnel as a terrorist target before the train slid in, but luckily all was well. Soon we were zooming through the flat French countryside before Paris. At Gare du Nord worked out how to get to Gare de Lyon, a mere two stops on the metro, once we found the correct platform. Gare de Lyon something of a maelstrom of people waiting. I went to a shop and carefully selected two of the worst baguettes in France and some drinks, then we made it aboard the TGV to Perpignan, along with hundreds of others. We were sat on the top deck, next to an annoying ...

Up early and free to work on my own stuff. Had the best morning's work I can remember. I got to grips with a poem I've been working on for ages currently called The door in the wall , based on the H.G. Wells story, and it really came together. After a while of this, I worked on on the opening to A Glass of Nothing . Feeling quietly elated by this progress. Physical energy however not so easy to come by, and by late afternoon after taking a stroll in the suddenly much colder weather, I needed a doze. The evening however fun. Met Jess and Andrew in the Shahi who are cheery company and easy going, chatting and forking down my traditional chicken tikka bhuna jaal with good cheer. Lorraine and I didn't have to cope with forgetting our keys this week, which was a great boon.  However once we got home, we heard about dreadful attacks in Paris, and watched the rolling news coverage on BBC news. Having popped over to Paris this year, and being pretty close to where the attacks h...

Woke up in plenty of time feeling rested and calm. Then I realised my reading specs had gone AWOL. Had to get down on my knees, shining my iPhone under the bed, and checked the room over a dozen times before I found them wedged between the wall and the top of bed after twenty minutes my stress levels were restored. Hotel staff were very friendly at The Best Western Diva Opera close to La Folies Bergère, which I could just glimpse if I craned my head out of one of the windows. All business for me, and I trundled my case around the corner to Rue Papillon where the little agency was, noticing how stylish everyone looked and hoping I didn't look like a tramp in my Berghaus dragging my cheap case. There, after going into the wrong door, I found Valérie, originally from Quebec, who introduced me to her team and gave me chouquette  for breakfast with a cup of tea, bless her. I liked Val and her project manager Marie right away. And it seemed the most natural thing in the world to go out...

Nervously getting ready this morning, breaking off to chat to Betty. Hopped on a bus and into town, then a train up to St Pancras. Arrived early and hung about in St Pancras for a while looking at the sculpture of John Betjeman, and phoned Mum and Mas. Then onto the Eurostar, the closest thing to a Shinkansen in the UK, zoomed across Kent and even remained calm under the channel trying not to picture myself at an average depth of 48 metres below the seabed, with all the English Channel overhead. Distracted by seeing a Toby-lookalike and also an actor who was in the Spiral TV series we saw on TV (although it took me several minutes to work out who he was). Strangely once the train surfaced in France I felt as if I'd crossed a weird Rubicon. My apprehension was replaced by pleasure looking out at the flat greyish landscape of northern France punctuated by churches poking up from little villages. I glanced at the man sitting across the isle from me and he was reading Proust's Sw...

Paris November 1979 The Gnome scanned in the photo below today at work. It is a photo of me in Paris when I'd just turned 20, and is probably the best ever photo of me. Giddy with the freedom of being at University, I went with some of my new University friends to Paris for a long weekend. A trip well worth getting into trouble with Martin Warner my personal tutor for. (And I was in trouble when I returned.) Because we were doing it on the cheap, we had to share beds. The first night I shared with a Californian guy called Scott who took this photo. The next day I was asked by another guy (who we were unkindly calling Captain Sensible) to swap with him. Oddly Captain Sensible had been sharing with a beautiful girl called Julie who was on my floor at my hall of residence. Naturally I was only too happy to help him out. In the middle of the night (everything had been very proper between me and Julie) I woke up to a sound which I took to be the ceiling caving in. Very soon, however, I...