I think 'surprised' would be a reasonable description of our reactions when Dennis and Fredrika popped by to suggest we continue with our plan to visit the Opera today, mostly because we we weren't sure that we'd had quite enough sleep when they did, but also because the weather was a tad inclement. So inclement is it that people are beginning to talk in loud grumbling murmurs about how this is not summer and indeed whether it will ever come.
"Surprised" was also pretty much their reaction too, when we alighted from the omnibus to be told that we couldn't actually go in today because, well we just couldn't.
"Can we come in tomorrow?" I enquired.
"I don't know, I just work here," replied the nice young man on the door who was barring the way.
So we ambled quietly away, across town popping in to places from time to time to marvel at the resilience of the cafe patrons sitting in what they hoped would soon be sunshine, at the suits of armour and the weapons from a time when war was right up with hunting as a pass time, and to check that Napoleon was still in his tomb. For the record we didn't find any evidence to the contrary so concluded that on the balance of probability what's left of him probably is.
Adopting the resilience of those cafe patrons somewhere in St Germain, we indulged in our second banana and Nutella crepe in as many Sundays, and couldn't help but ponder how quickly all of this has become so familiar, how quickly we have come to feel that we have been here for ever and how quickly the need to see "everything" has dissolved.
We are playing in our own back yard once again.
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