So I’m way behind on this and will fill the rest of Devon in later.
We were met in Paris by my uncle and his friend’s exceptionally ugly Bulldog, Margaux. We had been warned that she was the ugliest dog and true to form she is, but when you are lugging your entire 8 weeks of wardrobe up the hill to the top of Montmatre a rock solid bulldog is as good as a tugboat. Margaux is in fact the sweetest dog, desperate to play at any cost and with expressions film directors would pay big money for.
My uncle’s apartment is high in Montmatre with a beautiful view that includes a glimpse of the Eiffel tower and wide open spaces around him. Down the street is a little terrace with a rather fab little restaurant we had lunch in one day. The view from the terrace is surreal and made me want to don a beret quickly and become fluent in the language.
As it was Chris’s birthday we, being Chris, the bald man, Margaux’s owner Faith (stunning american) Chris’s girlfriend Ann and I cabbed it across town to a restaurant called La Closerie des Lilas where having already drunk a large amount we got stuck into Martini’s and some rather fantastic red wine. My love for Fois Gras didn’t let me even think about what else was on the starter board and while the others tucked into fish and langoustine I tried my very best not to lick the plate. The Bald man and I both had steak as a main which was unfortunately not cooked to perfection and where we had all gone for medium rare it was mainly blue and disappointing. The Fois Gras was beginning to dominate the space available for anything else, but again gluttony prevailed and a cheese board was deposited at speed in front of me. I am just going to recap here....... red wine, champagne, martini’s, Champagne, Fois Gras, red wine, steak, red wine, cheese, champagne, coffee and petit fours. Now this is not an exercise in gloating or making anyone reading this feel in any way green with envy. In fact the only thing slightly green here was me by the time I had finished. My Dr is forever telling me I am a half pint and should not keep trying to fill myself up with pints, in this case Dr Twaites, I well and truely yard glassed myself.
We had prebooked a Paris food tour on the Wednesday morning at 9am. Had I know I would have chronic indigestion, a cold and the biggest hangover I would never have booked it, but we got up and headed with Chris and Margaux to the metro in time to get to our meeting point, a cheese shop the other side of town. Hungover and snotty, the smell of cheese which would normally excite me was making my stomach curdle. An American doctor called Sarah was flapping the same booking form in front of us and after introductions and numerous tissues we met up with “Yves” our guide for the morning. Over the next 4 hours, he took us around the Latin Quarter and I took a million photo’s in between nose blowing.
By the afternoon we were back in Montmatre and took to the streets to explore and look for a dinner venue. If you haven’t been to Montmatre and Sacre Ceur, you should, it is one of those breath taking little moments in life that should be remembered. Our restaurant for dinner was Le Poulbot, recommended by the other tour guide on our trip. Tiny, quaint, unassuming and cosy, we shared each others onion soup and escargot (“which were bloody good too” Bald Man) and Caseolet and Confit du Canard. Chris joined us for coffee and desert and when I lost the bald man to the phone and NZ, I decided it was time for bed. Margaux was later sent in search of the Bald man with success.
Day two, not hungover, our mission was to dance on the top of the Eiffel Tower and 2 hours later we were up there. However my insecurity and perfect capability of making a complete tit of myself stopped me dancing with my lovely man and instead we gazed at the view and each other with a little pinching going on to make sure we were both there! We took a boat to Notre Damme, ate lunch at a little cafe in a square, bought shoes and aged coffee grinders and headed back to the great cathedral as the bells tolled. It really is an amazing building. “I didn’t realise the Supremes were on tour” said the Bald Man pointing to 3 microphone stands next to the alter. This resulted in me getting a fit of giggles just as the 5pm service was starting. With shopping bags and memories we headed back up the hill for a pretty lousy dinner at a restaurant and some well needed sleep.
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