Breakfast…
Tuileries Gardens
and amusement park
with big the wheel
and unforgettable views
Le Louvre
Musee d’Orsay
Tour Eiffel
Sacre Coeur
After lunch: Pere Lachaise Cemetery
(Oscar Wild was also buried there, but his tomb was covered in plexiglass because people kept leaving messages/graffity etc. so hard to take a decent pic)
Atelier du Lumières, an incredible immersive experience of the works of Klimt and Hundertwasser. Really not to miss.
I’m knackered.
This morning we left history and art and turned our attention to science instead, mainly to appease the ‘tween’ who has ‘no interest in paintings’. At all.
Science museum then.
We decided to hop in a taxi to travel overground rather than underground in the metro… it was interesting to realise how big Paris actually is and how different it is when you move out of the historical centre.
The weather was bleak and drizzly and it really added to the brutalist architecture of ‘La Villette’, the area where the museum is.
The science museum itself is pretty big… but it could do with some attention. It could be totally amazing and most of the exhibition were really interesting… but…
…but there were also a lot of ‘not in use’ signs and empty spaces and general ‘tiredness’ around the place. Do you know what I mean? It could also be because it’s hard to create a science museum that appeals to older children/teeneagers, I’m sure that if No 3 had been younger our experience would have been more positive.
After the museum I took myself onto the Metro and back into the centre of town. I really wanted to see ‘Place des Volges’ and Victor Hugo’s house. Needless to say I was on my own on that one!
Place des Volges is stunning.
As French as kissing and baguettes… I wish I’d had the time to sit and people watch whilst reading something by Simone de Beauvior or perhaps a Victor Hugo’s novel as he lived at no 6 with his wife and children for quite a few years.
This is the view from Hugo’s apartment (yes it did rain a little yesterday and the lower temperature were very welcome)
Am I the only one who loves a manuscript? or a writers signature in his own handwriting? Walking home the other day we passed this shop that in the window had signed letters from famous people.. James Joyce and Scott Fitzgerald to name just a couple… gave me a slight shiver. Like seeing the individual brush stroke on a famous painting and how it brings the artist alive.
Apparently Victor died in this bed… (very very small bed by the way)
The place wasn’t exactly as it was when he lived here, but a lot of the furniture had been collected from his various other residences (he lived in exile on the island of Guernsey for years after the fall of Napoleon), and so you get a pretty good idea of the style and taste. Minimalist he wasn’t.
Day 2.
Once Mr M and No 2 finally got out of bed, and after a quick cappuccino and croissant breakfast we headed for the Picasso Museum. You would have been excused in thinking I was taking them to the guillotine they were so thrilled.
Ignoramus.
The Museum in its current form only reopened in 2014 and I was really keen to see it… so you can imagine my humongous disappointment when I realised the two floors with Picasso’s own work were actually close to the public for maintenance/re-hanging/something or other.
Sigh.
(my kids love it when I get them to pose on the other side of a room blocking everybody else from going anywhere. Not).
(The restrooms in the museum were incredibly minimalist).
What we did see was an interesting small exhibition about Diego Giacometti (younger brother of the famous sculptor Alberto Giacometti) who was also a sculptor and who had been commissioned to create the lightings and some of the furniture for the museum…. (I didn’t know he even existed before today… shame on me!)
There was also a very interesting exhibition of Picasso’s most famous painting (is is?) the Guernica… lots of sketches, drawings, preliminary paintings, photographs etc. The painting itself is never let out of Spain, given its political importance, but at least we saw some original work
After a delicious ‘plat du jour’ for lunch we just strolled around… for 9.7km… yes, there was much moaning and accusations of child abuse and or slavery… whatever… I don’t care… we’re in Paris, we don’t know if we’d ever be in Paris again so we walk, and we look around and we stimulate our brain cells… am I right or am I right?
Did you know that the Centre Pompidou is 41 years old????
It most certainly stood the test of time… I’m very fond of this building. I don’t know why but when I first saw it… something like 36 years ago it really made an impression on me. It was something so different and bold and yet… perfectly logical. Love it.
(just in case you doubted we were in Paris…)
I love walking.
Paris by train… isn’t it great to be able to do this? So quick too. And one arrives right in the centre of the city… fabulous.
This is the view from the flat we’re staying in this week (on the left bank, near St Germain des Pres):
… it’s a pretty bonkers place, the owner was an antique dealer… no, don’t say!
after dropping the bags off we got walking… (yes there was moaning…)
(such a French scene… couples along the Seine…)
all the way to Notre Dame…
(table for two?)
This is a shot through the window of the Ulysses bookshop… super tiny and super cool…
And here’s the famous hotel de Lauzun… Baudelaire used to live upstairs and it’s said he wrote the first poems for his collection Les Fleurs du Mal here. He also ran a club called the Club of the Hashish-Eaters, which was a group dedicated to the exploration of drug-induced experiences, notably with hashish.[1] Members included Victor Hugo, Alexandre Dumas and Honoré de Balzac amongst others. Say no more, right? What goes on in Paris… stays in Paris…
]No 3 found me pretending to enter an excruciating mix of embarrassing and totally ridiculous. Worth doing for that alone.
We then had dinner at a tiny french restaurant behind Notre Dame called Au Bognat. Really cute.
… and then home at golden hour…
8 km in one afternoon.
No bad.
So less than a week into the summer holidays and school seems months ago… how lovely is that?
The big boys are on the other side of the world having a blast and playing hockey and having a blast playing hockey so Mr M and I grabbed No 3 and planned a few days in Paris.
However. We also had a soon to expire voucher for the famous Ronnie Scott Jazz Club so we added a night in the big smoke before catching the train to France… with me so far?
Big boys… Kuala Lumpur… hockey… no parents…
No 3 with us in London.
I think he’s happy…
Spending the night here. Very cool. Crazy decor by Kit Kemp, fantastic location, attentive staff and very comfortable pillows. I have a thing for pillows.
I always bring up the rear because I am always taking photos. I have tons of pictures of my family’s backs!
Isn’t this wallpaper crazy good?
We then mooched around the area for the afternoon…
… and then Mr M and I left the offspring with Alena from Slovakia… (that sounds so bad, doesn’t it?)… the baby sitter (which he hated because at home we don’t use one anymore but the hotel wouldn’t let him stay in the room by himself…) whilst we walked around the corner to a night of jazz, listening to the Average White Band.
Which were AWESOME.
And we weren’t allowed to photograph so you’re getting another picture from the toilette. Two in a day… lucky you.
The silly face is courtesy of a rather lovely Amalfi Martini… I’ll say no more.
Paris (by Charles Bukowski)
never
even in calmer times
have I ever
dreamed of
bicycling through that
city
wearing a
beret
and
Camus
always
pisse d
me
off.
I love slow, early (not too early), morning walks. It’s not too hot, the air smells clean and fresh… coffee in one hand and dog lead in the other. This morning I swapped the coffee for my camera, we’re going to Paris this week and I need to reacquaint myself with it… iPhones cameras are great, but the thrill of the ‘big camera’ cannot be underestimated.
See how quite the local park is? Even the cafe was still closed and it gets pretty busy later on around here.
I adore these huge old trees… they’re gorgeous in every season.
The recent drought has turned all the grass yellow. Its looks more like summer!
Lilli the dog had a free run as no other dogs were in sight strangely. I’m sure she thinks this is her garden and gets a tad stroppy and territorial with other hounds…
No 1 and No 2 have landed in their first destination and have sent pictures of swimming pools and hotel rooms. I miss them terribly even if they normally spend all day in their rooms and last night had a very anxious night sleep thinking about them. Ridiculous, I know.
No 3 is playing cricket and Mr M is watching.
I guess I can start packing…
Like Water to Chocolate (Laura Esquivel)
First things first… don’t you hate when they publish book with a movie tie-in cover? I do. Normally I wouldn’t buy a book like in that edition, but I had always wanted to read this one and I knew that if I let it pass me by I’d forget about it.
One word about it: delightful. If you like me are a fan of magic realism, if you spent hours and hours reading and re-reading Gabriel Garcia Marquez’ books or are a fan of Isabelle Allende… than this one is for you.
The lovely Tita cannot married her lover because her powerful mother wants her to upheld the family tradition of the youngest daughter looking after the parents in their old age, so he marries her sister to be near her… well… it’s all a big family mess from here, with humour, a huge amount of food, strong women and weak men, magic and mystery in Mexico at the time of Pancho Villa.
(my favourite chocolate)
The story keeps you, the language entertaines you, the words will leave you hungry and the characters captivates you. Each chapter begins with a recipe because a lot of the ‘magic’ element of the story is tied to the art of cooking ,eating and feeding.
A really gorgeous little book.
I haven’t seen the movie so I can’t comment on that, has anyone seen it?
2018 Mr Hanckock and the mermaid
2017 – Magari domain resto (Lorenzo Maroni)
2016 – Upstream (Mary Oliver)
2015
2014 – Annihilation (Jeff VanderMeer)
2013 – Careless people (Sarah Churchwell)
2012 – Wonder
2011 – The Paris Wife (Paula McLain)
2010
2009 – Let the great world spin (Colum McCann)
2008 – The White Tiger (Aravind Adiga)
2007
2006
2005 – Never let me go (Kazuo Ishiguro)
2004
2003
2002 – Everything is illuminated (Jonathan Safran Foer)
2001 – American Gods (Nail Gainman)
2000 – Coram Boy (Jamila Gavin)
1999
1998
1997 – Paradise (Toni Morrison)
1996 – Wilfred and Eileen (Jonathan Smith)
1995
1994
1993
1992
1991- Regeneration (Pat Barker)
1990
1989 – Like water to chocolate (Laura Esquivel)
1988
1987 – Norwegian Wood (Haruki Murakami)
1986
1985 – Oranges are not the only fruit (Jeanette Winterson)
1984
1983 – Heartburn (Nora Ephron)
1982 – The colour purple (Alice Walker)
1981
1979– The bloody chamber (Angela Carter)
1978
1977
1976
1975
1974
1973
1972
1971
1970
Am I the only one who reaches the last week of school completely frazzled and confused? ‘My daily life is an endless round of washing clothes for various ‘sports days’ and ‘activity days’ which require ‘old clothes’ or clothes that can get wet or covered in paint or ruined (why??)… then there’s the daily search for non-leaking water bottles, big but not heavy, and shoes that ‘disappear’ on a regular basis, and sun cream that’s non sticky, nor oily, nor smelly… but lasts all day…
hashtag rollyoureyestotheceiling.
Seriously. It’s madness. All this demanded by teenage boys who don’t speak but grunt and expect you to read minds and remember everything because they’re too busy watching the demented and brain destroying Love Island or shooting each in other in ‘Fortnight’… don’t get me started on either of them. I was listening to Radio 4 this morning on the way home from dropping them off at school and one of the panelist, talking statistics, mentioned that since 2009 the rate of teenage pregnancy has halved. My theory is that kids don’t meet each other anymore face to face. They’re too used to ‘snapchat’ each other or text each other or just be in touch on social media… they can’t handle face to face contact. Do you remember when in order to see boys you actually had to go out? and meet them? in person? shocking.
How did I get here?… whatever… life is busy… yesterday I got sent out looking for red and white face paint (all sold out), England flags (ditto) and a teddy bear to use as mascot for the upcoming hockey tour No 1 and No 2 will be on next week. Then of course the aforementioned creature had to have a t-shirt made in same colour as the kit… and so that’s how I spent yesterday afternoon: crocheting a t-shirt for a bear. Lucky me. This morning will be spent attaching name labels to hockey gear. Lucky lucky me. Actually I don’t mind that too much, the boys will have such an amazing experience I’m really glad for them… (I wish I was going). It’ll be weird not to have them around Mr M and I will be taking No 3 to Paris via train… I think we’re more excited than he is… AND if you have any recommendations for quirky things to do in Paris please pass then on… don’t say the sewers as Mr M is claustrophobic and was really disturbed by those poor Thai boys stuck in the cave for three weeks. So open air/museums off the beaten track, cute places to eat… that kind of thing.
Today I’m wearing trousers for the first time in almost three weeks. (I’d like to point out I was wearing dresses or skirts because of the un-English hot summer, I didn’t wonder around half naked). It feels very strange and constricting.
No 1 has passed his driving theory test. My baby. My first born is almost driving. Do you realise how old this makes me feel? Do you also realise that I have to remind him to put his towels in the wash every week and he could be soon in charge of a car??
For the sake of ‘true news’ I’d like to confess that my room doesn’t look like this at all at the current moment. I’m trying to remind myself of how nice it can be if I tidied up a bit and by a bit I mean a lot… still… one has labels to attach, right?
(And I just remembered I need to take the rubbish to the dump because NOBODY took the rubbish out on time yesterday morning.)
Sigh.
I’m hiding in my kitchen behind this screen because the house is overrun by people and I literally don’t know what to do with myself.
There are three chaps sorting out the wifi. THREE.
There is one technician servicing the alarm system.
Three of them would like a white coffee with two sugars, one of them white no sugar.
Sigh.
AND I’m waiting for peeps to come and replace the carpet in the master bedroom and the stairs after a certain small dog who shall remain nameless decided not to be well upstairs and all over my bedroom – which, by the way it are all places she’s not supposed to go – … and I mean ‘gross’ stuff. All over. Too much details? Sorry, I’m still furious.
On top of that the gates keep getting stuck. Stuck open, stuck shut, stuck half way. It’s totally random and extremely annoying. So I’m waiting for the gate people too.
If you’re wondering about the photos… they were taken on Tuesday night whilst the rest of the nation was being tortured by our football team… No 1 had some homework for his A-level photography course which required tonnes of powedered paint, a mannequin head and a mother to press the remote control shutter thingy when told to do so. I can’t wait for the rain to wash the residue away. On the other hand I love to see my children work and try to solve problems and work things out by themselves, even if my butt went to sleep sitting for ages on an upturned plant pot.
Then I need to search for the boys’ navy house tops which are required for tomorrow’s sports day and of course have vanished, all three of them. Why is it that they’re always around except when you need them? I refuse to buy anymore… I know they’re in the house somewhere and I will find them. I will.
Talking of finding things, something funny happened last night; Mr M was driving home from work when it felt and heard the car key slipping out of his shorts pocket (his new car doesn’t have a key slot, as long as the key is in the car… it goes) onto the floor. When he got home went to retrieve it… and the key has vanished. It’s in the car somewhere but we just can’t find it… we moved the seat, looked under it, to the side of it, in the door pockets, I mean it EVERYWHERE… he looked, than I looked (and you know what they say, nothing is lost until mum can’t find it..), the boys looked. Nothing. We know it’s in there somewhere because the car starts… but where? (He has got another key so the car can be locked, but it’s a total mystery)
How soon do you think I can eat a lemon ice lolly? I’m totally obsessed by them.
I’m totally loving this weather… it reminds me of the summer of my youth, fresh morning, hot hot afternoons, long lazy evenings… perfection. Please don’t moan to me that it’s too hot. Stick your feet in a bowl of cold water and grab a book, you’ll like it, I promise.
I suppose I could do the ironing…
Sigh…
while you're ahead... 