48 hours later, I’m back on the Eurostar again after a grey, cold weekend in Paris. Despite the weather, we had a great time and caught up with some old friends.

I arrived late on Friday night and managed to convince the ticket machine at the Metro to sell me a ticket. French machines, being French, refuse to speak in Foreign, so I was left relying on my schoolboy French to get me across town. That wasn’t a problem, but trying to work out where to stick my money into the machine was – the machine was designed to take coins or credit cards, but not Euro notes – unlike the ticket machines on the Tube. So there I was, stupid tourist, trying to stick notes into a machine that clearly didn’t take them, much to the annoyance of the French.

Having finally convinced the ticket machine to take my credit card, I met Aude and her friend Anne Laure at Bastille for a few drinks. We ended up in a bohemian bar down a side street. The waitress gave me a hard time for being American…

We jumped into a cab and headed for our hotel – a nice enough place, but near the Peripherique (beware Priceline’s interpretation of “near the Eiffel Tower” – we were as near to the Eiffel Tower as I look like George Clooney).

Aude rides the Metro into Central Paris

November in Paris features a special photography month, a subject near and dear to my heart. On Saturday morning we grabbed the Metro into central Paris to see an exhibit entitled “Children of the World” by Kevin Kling (a woman, despite the name) that was being exhibited outside the Jardin du Luxembourg and where we’d seen an exhibition of the best 20th century press photography when we were last in London. It was a great exhibit despite poor weather conditions.

A group of nuns take in the exhibition

Aude looks at one of the photos in the “Children of the World” exhibition

Inside the Jardin du Lumembourg

Inside the Jardin du Lumembourg

Inside the Jardin du Lumembourg

No, not rays of light coming from her head. Rather, something to stop the pigeons crapping down her front.

Sailboat rental

It was Remembrance Day in France, with flowers placed on most of the war memorials

We spent a lot of time like this. Never underestimate a woman’s ability to shop!

We were also going to try to see the Henri Cartier-Bresson exhibit – an interest to me because he shot nearly his entire portfolio using a 50mm lens. I’ve just bought a 35mm prime lens (the digital equivalent of a 50mm lens in the digital world, and very close to what the human eye sees naturally) and have been looking for inspiration. The 35mm Nikon lens is acclaimed as one of the best Nikon lenses ever produced, but I can’t seem to get it to work its magic for me. (Incidentally, all of the photos in this blog entry were taken with the 35mm lens – your feedback and constructive criticism is welcome!)

Lunch was a couscous at a restaurant on the Left Bank – with a friendly cat that took to Aude immediately.

Proof that you can also find a Mexican in Paris!

As we walked past an Italian restaurant, Aude suggested I snap a photo of the chap in the window as a potential boyfriend for our friend MG. Innocent as I am, this is what I snapped.

Proof that Aude is a bigger pervert than me: Laughing at my picture, she pointed out that I’d entirely missed the point (no pun intended). This was the fellow she had in mind!

We decided to walk from the Jardin of Luxembourg towards Monparnasse, where the Cartier-Bresson exhibit was being held, doing some shopping on the way. Cue the first of many times getting lost in Paris (and the first of many sexist jokes from me). Due to a slightly unscheduled detour, we spent the afternoon shopping and gave up on the Cartier-Bresson exhibit due to my aching feet. On the upside, I did get a kiss from a strange woman – it was her hen night and she was kissing every passing man!

In a scene that was to become uncomfortably familiar, we find ourselves in front of a map, not knowing quite where we are…

We still had a few hours to kill and needed an activity that didn’t involve a lot of walking, so I suggested we catch a bateau mouche. Cue the second of many times getting lost in Paris. Determined to catch the bateau mouche at Pont Neuf (but holding the map upside-down), we ended up walking around nearly the entire Ile de la Cite before finally giving up. Instead, we went to Plan B and headed for Alcazar, the Conran restaurant I had booked for dinner.

Despite being unable to travel by bateau mouche, I was able to take a few pictures of Paris by night – when Paris is at its most beautiful in my opinion

After an ‘Ultra Violet’ for Aude and a Manhattan for me, plus a couple of kirs, we were in a much better mood. We went downstairs for dinner and had a beautiful meal – Aude started with foie gras and then had venison, I started with escargot (leaving me smelling like a true Frenchman all night) and followed with veal. I asked the sommelier for a wine recommendation and he suggested a Corbieres. When the wine was presented, it was a bottle of vintage Pomerol – lucky I paid attention to his suggestion and didn’t take the wine that arrived at my table – it would have been a very expensive mistake!

Sunday morning we met some old friends from Canterbury for a Moroccan brunch – Alain and Faouzia, Julien and his girlfriend Karine. I did my best to order my breakfast in French, but asked that I be served no eggs – and mixed up my article. Cue more piss-taking from a French waitress (and more muttering of C’est pourquoi tout le monde deteste les Parisiens). Despite clarification from my French-speaking friends, she still screwed up my order. No tip for her – he who laughs last, laughs best.

In any case, it was great to catch up, and my friends were all pleased to hear all the gossip and goings-on that had happened in Canterbury since they’d left (although Julien was ahead of the game, being a regular reader of my blog).

Julien & Karine

Alain, Faouzia, Julien, Karine and Aude outside the restaurant

Alain, Faouzia, Julien, Karine and Matthew outside the restaurant

L’église Saint Eustache

The Opera

Aude poses for a photo

Matthew poses with the smallest flowers he’s ever seen at the Grand Hyatt in Paris

Cafe culture – what Paris is a famous for!

Matthew standing in Place Vendome

No trip to Paris would be complete without a photo of the Eiffel Tower at sunset, would it?

Paris Metro

We left them mid-afternoon and went for a walk, stopping for a coffee at the Grand Hyatt, then walking down Place Vendome and through the Jardin du Tuleries. Back to the hotel, then we grabbed a cab which took years off my life (and reminded me: I need to update my will) until we finally arrived at Gare du Nord.

Aude smiles on Eurostar despite her reluctance to go back home

Matthew looking somewhat more skeptical

Beats a McDonalds!

Sauteed veal on Eurostar. Remember when food on the plane was like this?

A few hours later, and here I am again on the Eurostar (today’s celebrity sighting was James Blunt, having a drink in the Eurostar business class lounge), heading back to Canterbury at 300km per hour, eating another lovely dinner and drinking a glass of wine. I trust I’ll be greeted by two very friendly, very hungry looking cats.

Back to work tomorrow, but only for four days – we’re off to a Scottish wedding on Thursday night. Such a jet-setting life we lead. I’ve already packed my man-skirt.

We were invited to the 30th birthday party of a friend-of-a-friend last night, a traditional barn dance and hog roast held at the village barn in Chilham, about five miles outside Canterbury. No one was quite sure what the dress code was, so we all ended up dressing in various degrees of cowboy (ranging everywhere from John Wayne to Brokeback Mountain).

The party was a great success – the band was great and everyone got into the spirit of the evening. There was a combination of line dancing, square dancing, and Scottish and Irish ceilidh. And a lot of tomfoolery as we discovered that most of us had two left feet.

Finally, the pièce de résistance, the hog. Roasting all day outside, it was absolutely delicious – we ate nearly the whole thing with no leftovers to speak of.

Aude and Lina discover cowboy-chic

Matt pulls off the look somewhat less successfully

Darren, looking a little less like a cowboy without his hat

Thelma & Louise?

I have no idea who these people are, but it was a nice photo so I thought I’d include it anyhow

It’s Dirty Dancing all over again!

Aude claps along to the music

Darren flashes a grin to the camera

The Smallest Cowboy

Another cowgirl

The line dancing begins!

Orla poses with her little pink hat

Dave’s made the effort!

Why Matt has never chosen to live on a ranch

A cow-couple

Jon, the birthday boy, and a friend

Aude, Matt and Lina

The artist formerly known as “dinner”

A proud chef shows off his prowess

More line dancing

More line dancing

Aude and Darren show the onlookers how it’s done!

The band at the end of a good set and a long night

Apparently, it’s British Sausage Week. They’ve gone a bit mad in our canteen, offering fifteen different varieties of sausage over the course of the week, along with a bit of a marketing campaign (for example, sausages are the most popular barbeque food in the UK (49% of BBQs), followed by beef burgers (38%) and poultry (37%). Despite average partnership profits of £686K per partner this year, it does seem like we’re wasting good money here.

After two weeks of peace and quiet, Ms. Squeaky made her return to the train. She declared herself victorious to the entire carriage and then proceeded to (yep, you guessed it) call all of her friends to let them know her news. I’ve just about given up, and am debating whether to buy a cell-phone jammer (illegal but satisfying) or whether I should simply move to another carriage. L’enfer, c’est les autres indeed!

Off to a swanky 5-star hotel in Brighton for a corporate piss-up tonight — black tie event with loads of champagne. They’ve got a spa as well, so I’m thinking about sneaking off for an hour for a massage. Tomorrow’s a day of team-building. Sometimes I’m amazed I get paid to do all this. At the risk of repeating myself, despite average partnership profits of £686K per partner this year, it does seem like we’re wasting good money here.

Still, I like champagne. Who am I to question the wisdom of the partners?

We stayed out until 2am last night, which must be a record. Except for Jerome – despite being the youngest in our party, he’d crawled back to our place at midnight to catch up on his sleep. Investment banking isn’t quite the glamorous career it’s made out to be – this was his first night of decent sleep in a week!

The extra hour of sleep afforded by the clocks going back was a real blessing, and all three of us woke up with very sore heads this morning. Aude and Jerome decided to do some shopping while I prepared a traditional Sunday roast of roast beef, roast carrots and parsnips with honey and cinnamon, roast potatoes (roasted with the goose fat from our Christmas goose last year) and sautéed cabbage. It was just what the doctor ordered.

The weather today was unbelievable – warm and sunny and totally out-of-character for this time of year. We sat in the garden to eat our lunch, not believing that it was nearly November.

I cut the grass yesterday – the third time I’ve cut it for the “last” time of the season – but this time I think it might actually be true. I really can’t believe that this good weather can continue for much longer – the cold, dark nights of winter are really just around the corner.

A traditional Sunday roast, taken untraditionally in the garden

Matthew gets tucked into his food…

I’m convinced that Jerome only comes to stay with us so that he doesn’t starve.

Lunch, if I must say so myself, was absolutely delicious. Even Daisy agreed.

Daisy and I clearly do not share the same enthusiasm for the camera.

Warm and sunny in the last week of October? I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes.

Jerome poses for the camera.

Well, the weather didn’t cooperate, but otherwise we had a lovely weekend in Normandy visiting Aude’s grandfather.

Having narrowly avoided the Friday evening proposal-writing session at the office, I ended up spending several hours talking to my mother on the phone on Friday evening – and subsequently didn’t get to bed until nearly midnight. Which, with my early starts most mornings, qualifies as “late” these days.

We set off early on Saturday morning (too early, actually – I prefer my weekends to start after 6am!) and caught the 8am Eurotunnel to Calais. From Calais, we drove down to Montreuil sur Mer where the Wine Society has their European shop, and restocked our wine cellar. On the recommendation of the shopkeeper, we decided to try a local restaurant for lunch but changed our minds when we were put off by the proprietor.

She was the stereotypical arrogant, rude French person that every English-speaker fears – the stuff of whom legend is made. And Aude was right there beside me to witness it all – and agreed with my assessment. It’s people like this that are giving the French a bad name.

It was all our fault, you understand. We’d entered the restaurant at 11:50am. Aude had politely asked, in French, whether they were serving lunch yet or whether we were too early. “You’re too early,” came the reply. “Come back when we’re open!”

We asked what time they opened. “12 o’clock!” she said.

We should have recognised her displeasure at having arrived ten minutes before the designated serving time and left then and there. But since there wasn’t a full menu posted in the window, we asked if perhaps we couldn’t have a quick look at the menu. I’ve never seen such a roll of the eyes or heard such a sharp intake of breath. Who were these two idiots in her restaurant, so mal élevé?

We left the restaurant, wishing her a future of bankruptcy and food poisoning. We had a steak around the corner instead.

Lunch behind us, and with a boot full of booze, we headed down to Normandy to meet Aude’s grandfather. Luckily, we had a much warmer reception when we got to the Manoir where we were staying (more about that with photos to come later). We were greeted like long lost friends. The hotel and room were beautiful, with a warm log fire to greet us.

We spent the afternoon visiting with Aude’s grandfather and looking through some old family photographs. Jerome, if you’re reading this, I’ve seen the photographs of you in the pyjamas with bunny ears. God help you if you should ever decide to go into politics.

We had a lovely meal yesterday evening with Aude’s grandfather at a restaurant in the centre of town, then went back to his place this morning with a charcuterie and had lunch with him. We hit the road around 2pm with the best intentions of seeing some of the Norman coast, but it wasn’t to be. It poured with rain all afternoon.

Our plans thwarted, we headed straight for the tunnel and caught an early train home. Short of my mother calling, I should be in bed by 10pm tonight, ready for another week!

Aude picks an apple, the fruit that made Normandy famous…

Aude in front of the Manoir

Tired of having only one boyfriend, Aude chats up some of the alternative Frenchman. Her first effort isn’t terribly successful, landing her a boyfriend a lot like most of her ex’s.

Her second effort was more successful. She caught this good-looking fellow, but eventually rejected him because she found him a little two-dimensional.

Suddenly, every Frenchman in town heard that there was a young single girl on the market. Aude had no choice but to hide for cover.

Aude and her grandfather outside his house.

Matthew and Aude’s grandfather. For the record, he doesn’t hate me (despite the body language here). It’s just that Aude and auto-focus have an uneasy relationship, and this was the only shot that was even remotely in focus!!!

Aude and her grandfather in front of his house in Orbec.

Matthew and Aude’s grandfather. I haven’t farted. Honestly. Please see my previous comment about Aude’s auto-focus ability.

Aude’s grandfather as we had lunch together.

My mother and I were speaking on the telephone the other night, and I was describing the farmer’s market and restaurant across the street from our house. Still, a picture’s worth a thousand words — so I figured I’d save the cost of a 45-minute transatlantic call and include about 5,000 words worth of description here:

Fruit and vegetables stall — locally grown and organic

The restaurant at the back of the food hall. Most of the ingredients are sourced from the market.

The French charcuterie, which keeps Aude in saucisson.

A view over the entire hall from the restaurant.

View of the front of the market, as seen from our front door.

Say what you want, but I’d rather have this across the street as our “local shop” than a 7-Eleven anyday.