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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...


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