Skip to main content

On heading off to Paris!

If you're still reading (I'm sure I've turned a few of you off by way of my obnoxious heading to which I say, fair play), I'm going to have to love you and leave you sooner than I had intended. This blog post was supposed to have been written in advance so that all I had to do today was hit the 'publish' button and feel as if things were right.On.Track. Alas, life so rarely follows the plan you try and set. And so here I am, less than an hour away from departure and typing furiously to get something, anything posted while McNulty nudges my laptop off my lap so he can take pride of place, be centre of attention, shower me with love before I go - though I expect it's more him making sure I'm anchored to the flat until his dinnertime, after which I may do as I please. He.Won't.Care.

And so to Paris.
As Meg Ryan's character said in French Kiss (ie one of cinema's most important works) 'I will triumph!'

Yes, I'm destined for France's beautiful capital and I couldn't be more excited. I, along with a good friend whose birthday is the focus of this little French jaunt, will be deposited at Gare du Nord via train after a matter of hours, and knowing I'm headed to another country and don't have to deal with an airport, plane and blocked ears, fills me with utter joy.

Joy. Excitement. All the right words to describe a mini-break to one of the world's top cities.

So then why does the dread of expectation hover like a spectre over this afternoon? Surely a holiday is supposed to make you happy. And if you're journey includes a destination you've previously visited, and absolutely loved, then you can bank on having a wonderful time, right? Or is that part of the problem? Knowing you want to love the place you love even more than you loved it last time...What if something happens to make me hate the French and everything French-like?

Can you see what I'm getting at? No? I'm overthinking things, you say?


Besides, how can anything make me dislike France and the French? (British readers don't need to chime in here.) They've given us accents! Wine! Accents! Amelie! And other stuff which I can't think of right now because really, I NEED TO PACK.


Loving and leaving. That's what I'm up to. I have to pack (why does packing give me such anxiety STILL after so much travelling?!?) and get myself to the station where the Eurostar, a bottle of champagne a good friend and a wonderful city are waiting for me. It's going to be Fab and French. I know you hate me. I'd hate me too.

Stay tuned for more...


Popular posts from this blog

On brain freeze

Due to the inevitability of British Winter, my brain stopped working.  There will be a proper posting next week... probably.

On Arzak... a post in eleven dishes

Being a somewhat average human, with a somewhat average human's earning capacity, my experience of Michelin-starred restaurants is limited. So when I visited not only a Michelin-starred restaurant, but a 3-star Michelin-starred restaurant, you can bet I would be TELLING EVERYONE I KNEW ABOUT IT. Ahem. And so, I give you the degustation feast of restaurant Arzak, San Sebastian. A blog post in eleven dishes. Apparently not the start of the meal, just a teaser. Moringa and prawn (PINK) gyoza on the left. Banana and squid in the tree bamboo-thing on the right. Of course. (Forgive the crap photos - I took them in a blind panic not wanting to be 'that person' even though I was very clearly 'that person'.) Still haven't started yet. Just a taster! Marinated sardine and strawberry. Again, just a hint of things to come! 'Cecina' and kalamata on the right. Eel rod on the left with the log. I despair of people who never have a log on their dinne

On the privilege of seeing Harry Potter and the Cursed Child (no spoilers, promise!)

Beloved characters from books, films and television shows are often sacred ground for us fans. We have journeyed with them, taken them into our hearts and think about them when our real lives are being a little less than spectacular. And so, when these characters are revisited for what sometimes feels like a money grab, and what sometimes is (I’m sure) a form of closure for the creatives, we wait with the duelling emotions of hope and fear, wondering if those in charge are about to wreck everything. Most often than not, they do wreck things, a lot (Mitch Hurwitz and your Arrested Development season 4 shambles, I’m looking at you!). While I always want more Bridget Jones, Mad About the Boy didn’t quite do it for me and I’m terrified about seeing Bridget Jones’s Baby for fear that watching it will forever ruin the first film and first two books for me. Similarly, I’m nervous about the upcoming Gilmore Girls episodes even though I’d give my right arm to go back to Stars Hollow. And maybe