I love Paris in the springtime

Well, we spent two nights in Paris last week (Tuesday and Wednesday). It was a special offer brought to our attention by those very nice people at Travel Zoo. It turned out to be an offer we couldn’t refuse and we duly called in several favours which resulted in our children transporting us to and from Bournemouth station firstly for the 10.59 to London Waterloo on Tuesday and then from the 19.05 from London Waterloo on Thursday, arriving at 21.10 (bloody pathetic – nobody got on or off at Sway, Hinton Admiral, New Milton or Pokesdown). We took the Eurostar to Paris via Lille and, being interested in seeing how fast the train went and following the map to see where we were, I took my lovely brand new Garmin 60Csx and shone it out of the window at the sky. It hadn’t worked on the South West Train earlier, presumably because of the double-thickness-specially-coated-with-satellite-signal-destroying-material carriage windows, which prevented me from recording the mind-numbing speeds sometimes almost exceeding 50mph, I shouldn’t wonder. Killjoys. On the high speed stretch of track in Kent (there is another in course of construction, I gather – no doubt, Hutters or Hoggy could confirm or deny), the driver put his foot down and I watched the numbers on the Garmin slowly going up: 120…150…160…163…167…169…come on, come on…… yes! 170mph! And it was smooth. However, when we emerged from the tunnel on the French side, he really let himself go and, at one point, I clocked him at 191mph! Fantastique! Mind you, there was an announcement at one point informing us that it was the last time that particular driver would be piloting the Eurostar, so perhaps there was a leaving do going on and he was pissed. Anyway, we arrived (and returned home) in one piece. My niece and her partner both live and work in Paris and she had booked a table at a restaurant for Tuesday night; I had foie gras followed by confit de canard, one of my favourites, and at the end of the evening my niece’s partner performed a clever subterfuge by pretending there was an error in the bill and then going to another part of the restaurant to pay it! An entirely unexpected and generous gesture and he flatly refused recompense. On Thursday, we had lunch in the shadow of the Eiffel Tower and spent the evening lurching this way and that on a train journey that felt like riding a bike with no tyres along an endless cobbled street. *sigh*