The other day I realised that I have time. I have time to go to all the restaurants, all the bars, all the cafes; to go to all the old favourite places and check out all the new exciting places. I don't have to go to them all right NOW. I suppose I'm used to racing round in London a mile a minute, hopping from one thing to the next.
So that afternoon I mooched around the sedate 5th arrondissement, instead of immediately jumping on a bus or metro. I went to Sadaharu Aoki and bought a matcha eclair, then wandered down to the tearoom at the Mosque, where flocks of tiny little birds flutter round your head (and the occasional MASSIVE PIGEON muscles in). There are so many heaters there that it's positively balmy, even if it's freezing cold outside. They just bring you tea, you don't even have to decide or ask for it, which I like. After a glass of tea at the Mosque I wandered around the Jardin des Plantes, then took refuge in the warmth of the greenhouse.
I was going to cross the river and walk up to Bastille to look in the Sessun shop, then perhaps have a drink at Septime Cave. But it's the derniere demarque - final markdowns in the sale, or in other words, the dregs. The sales finish on Tuesday, then all the new stuff will be in the shops. That's the time to go. So I wandered back through the gardens, went back up, up, up the winding stairs to my little home for the month and ate my matcha eclair. Sounds boring right? Haha, maybe, but it was somehow a very memorable day.
I did go out that night though - obviously.