I am sitting in CafÃ© de Flore, blogging.
I feel almost exactly like Hemingway… although slightly less inebriated, and ever so slightly less clever.
NONE THE LESS, I am in Paris! I have a cup of thick, strong coffee and I’m clacking away on the keys.
But I digress, I’m supposed to be telling you about yesterday, not today (it’s only breakfast time, nothing’s happened today).
My chap and I woke up late and ravenously hungry.
The French wait for no man when it comes to breakfast. Either you eat it at day break, or you miss out.
I am not excellent when I’m hungry. I tend to get “hangry” (grumpy). Having been told by L’Avenue that breakfast was over, I sipped my tea, with the very beginnings of a scowl starting to turn my brows.
“Bugger this” said my love, “let’s just go to lunch.”
Whistled for a taxi and off we went.
Winding through the streets of Paris, all the way to Lipp.
I know I’ve written about this place before, but it’s one of my favourite places in the world… so maybe you’ll forgive me?
Not having wine with food is seriously frowned upon by the very serious waiters.
So, of course, we caved.
Wine for breakfast! How I love France.
We shared a table of favourites.
Snails, ratatouille, filet steak with bÃ©arnaise and frites.
Snails freak some people out, but really the texture is no different to clams and they swim in the most marvellous garlic butter, which you get to mop up later with crunchy bread.
I order them at every opportunity!
We sat for some time, catching up.
He’s been travelling lots for work, so Paris seemed like a good place to meet.
Oh, and since my discovery of Pocket Watch, they’ve decided to become a Londoner sponsor! So now I get to work with them! Which is very exciting.
We skipped pudding in favour of having one somewhere else, and headed out for a stroll.
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I have the most wonderful shop recommendation for you.
You’ll love this place!
It’s called Buly.
They sell old school cosmetics, soaps, scrubs, lotions, potions & candles.
Pretty tiled floors, wooden clad walls & shelf after shelf of things to peer at and sniff.
They have every oil and cream you could ever hope for, all wrapped up in achingly cool packaging.
They have huge candles that burn from within a case of hand carved marble, causing the icy blue marble to glow.
I chose “Sacre” (it smells like a church at Easter). Slightly disapointed that it was green and not white, but the smell too good to pass up.
The exceptionally friendly shop girl whooshed over and explained that I could choose green OR white marble, and once I’d chosen I could choose the exact marble!
She explained that they all have different souls and characteristics. Some are pure, some are dark.
I chose an almost pure piece, with a slash of grey across the back.
Not quite innocent, not quite wicked.
And went off to find a gift for mum.
Then we strolled s’more.
We stopped in the square where I would like to live.
And hid from a summer splash of rain.
My shawl is from Temperley.
Once the rains passed, I raced across the square to do something I’d just seen a 5 year old boy do with glee…
We walked to Berthillion for gelato.
Many claim that Berthillion is the best gelato in the world.
I’m not sure I’d go that far, but it is very good!
Mine was salted caramel butter, chocolate & fig.
We ate them over the Seine with our feet dangling.
Before racing inside to avoid another smattering of rain!
Now, I’m afraid there’s a pan au chocolat at the next table and it’s winking at me.
I’m going to have to order one and tell you more tomorrow.