Showing posts from September, 2010

Ah, Paris! People quiver at the mere mention of your name. But I'm not one of them...

About ten years ago I composed the following poem entitled: A Nice Day.

The sky hangs high Like a blue thing With a bright yellow globe In it. And it seems to have been A nice day.
It was a nice day too when I went to Paris in May 2005, the first time that I had visited Paris, or even France, or even the continent, or even anywhere outside the United Kingdom, for 20 years. After arriving at the truly crummy Terminal 3 at Charles de Gaulle Airport, I rather stupidly or inadvisedly or imprecariously took the bus instead of the train to the Gare de l'Est. We set off straight away, got onto a dual carriageway, and I thought that for once I'd made a good call. Wrong. We almost immediately turned off into a business park or industrial estate, stopped and picked up workers, stopped and picked up some more workers, stopped again and picked up yet more, then rejoined the dual carriageway, then left it again for another business park, stopped and picked up more workers, then again, then ag…