Summer in Paris

Long time no hear, I know. Been busy. I spent the summer in Paris. You know, those few days this past week. Always a treat, even if it meant I missed summer in England. There is something irresistibly careless about Parisians in summer mode. They seem more forgiving, less urgent. The cafes and restaurants open up and the streets fill with people relaxing after work. Sitting among them with a glass of chilled Saint-Veran in good company makes you forget you got up at 5 in the morning and had a long and productive day.

Eventually of course summer had to be washed away in almighty thunderstorms and floods. Leaving the city in a morning-after mood, full of the memory but a touch deflated. And Parisians counting down to their summer trek to the south coast, where the sun shines, even this year. And me? Back to the rainy isle, keeping myself going with these morsels of summer as it should be. Once I’ve shaken the memory I’ll kick it up a gear, I tell myself. For now I’ll pour myself another glass of wine and sit back. Worth it, I might produce a fabulous idea. You have to make time for that.

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