12/03/23 15:22 

A different approach to writing today.  I’m still writing in the same way, I’m just lying on my bed, watching the ink bleed through the page as I’ve swapped an adaptor to a cartridge.  I’ve got The Earful Tower podcast playing on Alexa and I’m trying to work out where I should take this entry. 

I finished the Semi de Paris in 2 hours, 12 minutes and 31 seconds, which is an acceptable time for me.  It was a quick weekend with Nev and the boys but it went rather smoothly.  The boys felt familiar with Paris and for Nev, it was more like a regular weekend for her.  I had the slight race anxiety going on bit it was more about the family getting the luggage down the stairs that weighed heavier on my mind.  It all worked out well, even with the extra souvenirs that we’d picked up. 

Jasper bought himself a PSG MBappé kit top and Rory got an NBA basketball baseball cap.  They also bought themselves a bag of Lindt chocolate balls each.  Nev purchased another posh Guerlin lipstick with pop-up mirrored case from a different Sephora to last time.  And the time before that.  

Me?  I didn’t need to purchase any more syrop de menthe or grenadine – I’ve still got 2 bottles of each from our New Year’s visit.  The boys bought two packets of Haribo Chamellows each to bring back for nocturnal gaming snacking.  I solely stocked up on Doliprane 1000g.  But with a difference.  The majority of the packs were tablets.  However, one pair « deux boits de Doliprane, s’il vous plaît » were capsules.  I didn’t get them from the pharmacy at the junction of boulevard Magenta and rue la Fayette, pharmacie Centrale du Nord.  I know this for a fact as the pharmacist – once he’d finished his call – asked me the difference between a pill and a capsule to enhance his English.  This is in direct opposition to myself wanting to enhance my French.  Some may say it’s exactly the same, though. 

We were at a Starbuck’s at Cadet on rue la Fayette where we met a lovely little white terrier called Kika.  The lady owner allowed us to pet her whilst she got herself a cup of coffee.  But alas, the staff asked them both to move on.  I understand the reason from a corporate side of things bit on a more humanitarian level, I think they should’ve ignored them for the sake of a €5 cappuccino.   

Rory had placed our order with the barista who was kind enough to converse in English with him.  I’ve taught the boys over the years to always be polite; say hello, thanks and goodbye in shops, especially required for our trip to Paris.  However, for some reason, the iced drink that Rory asked for Jasper wasn’t actually the iced drink that Jasper asked for.  Which was no biggie.  I went back to the counter to reorder.  Which is exactly what happened.  The exact same incorrect drink.  The third time that we requested Jasper’s drink, I actually got it right.  I even asked for it to be in a takeaway cup.  This was all in English with the odd pattering of my poorly worded French.  When it came time to leave though, I went to the counter and asked for une boîte pour le gâteau to *insert walking fingers and little whistle here*.  The chap who had previously entered the shop and then tucked himself behind the collection counter decided to interject with « à emparter » which after an entire weekof using “à partir” made me realise I knew even less French than I thoughy.  I guess it would still work – to takeaway or to go away.  As much as we tourists wish to learn French to enable us to be more submerged into the culture, the French still want to learn English to enable them to assist the tourists that haven’t grasped French but certainly try to.