Friday, December 23, 2005


Location: Streets of Paris
Caca alert: extremely high
Spot on chin: throbbing
Coffee: Non!
Chances of finding out what the hell pumpkin hokkaido is: slim
Chances of actually finding the fucker even if I did know: slimmer

See this is what happens when you try and make a plan. I am happiest bumbling along ready to respond to what the day brings. Always expect the unexpected I say. But today I thought, I'll try making a plan and see what happens.

Well, Pain de Sucre - the amazingly fabulous boulangerie where I was planning to buy my bread was closed. Mais bien sur, c'est Mercredi! How silly of me to expect it to be open when everything else is closed on a Monday. So then I made a new plan to go for a coffee. Cafes serve coffee, you know generally in France. It did not occur to me even to doubt this. But as we know within every assumption is contained the possibility of its' opposite.

The nice waiter explained, hands to head that the whatchamacallit of the something or other to do with the doodat of the hot water thingy was BROKEN (he was speaking really fast ok, I got the general gist). So instead of a coffee I partook of a chocolat chaud and a croissant (the hot milk thingy was in perfect working order). Then, still attempting to stick to the futile plan I made my way to the Pompidou centre which I had unsuccessfully attempted to visit the previous day. ('C'est ferme, c'est Mardi!' the security guard helpfully informed me.) So back to the plan of Wednesday. The Pompidou Centre is open but there is a queue a mile long. So I say fuck the plan, go and get a coffee and watch the queue subside until I can go in without freezing my arse off.

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