Tag Archives: France

Listen, it’s Summer…

Summer is in the sounds. Not in the date, although I have to go with the original and official one of today. Nor the long hours of sunshine, nor the heat they sweep through the stifling streets. Summer enters through … Continue reading

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Dear Sacha

Yes, you will undoubtedly find me ungrateful. No, I will not just keep my big mouth shut. But, honestly? All I asked for last week was your intervention to help make the never-ending raindrops stop falling. I imagined you may … Continue reading

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Raindrops keep falling on my head…

Ever wondered why Sacha Distel snatched this song from Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid and sang it ever so suavely on his own TV show? Not just to show off his chic Gallic style and toothy white smile. Not … Continue reading

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Sweet Sunday

Fire’s on. TV’s on. Feet are up on the coffee table. The poor girl in ‘Don’t tell the Bride’ is going to hate what he’s preparing for her. And even if I am loving this moment there are still two … Continue reading

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Thank the Saints

For once the Lord is not to be thanked today, over here in the land of baguettes and days off galore. Usually he’s the one giving us a mid-week Sunday here, a welcome Friday at home there, or a random … Continue reading

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In Memory

Exactly one year ago today my mother-in-law died alone in a stark hospital room near our home, after fighting hard for three months against an unknown, unnamed enemy. Nobody could tell us exactly what disease she was suffering from, but … Continue reading

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Just one minute

Sixty seconds.  A hundred steps. That’s all it takes to remove myself from the humming modern city and walk into a minute’s worth of discovered peace. And I have an anonymous selfish git to thank for this discovery. An individual … Continue reading

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Shaking in my shoes…

What a strange sensation to wake up inside a dream. To realise that I was sleeping within my dream and was woken (but I was still sleeping really) by a news presenter announcing on a television set beside my bed … Continue reading

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It’s a small, small world

What was the likelihood of our paths ever crossing? Pretty much zilch in a million, I estimate. If she hadn’t bent down to tie her loosening shoe-lace or if I had had time to clean my greasy glasses before leaving … Continue reading

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