I have come back from two weeks away.
One week in London, doing nothing in particular:
Went to the National Gallery, bought a beautiful book about a man who plants trees,
fell in love with sweet potatoes, went to a rock bar wearing leather with dark lipstick.
My boyfried drove us round France: Rouen, Paris and Calais.
Rouen is beautiful, quiet and very french.
Paris is beautiful, busy, touristful, musical and very french.
Calais is ugly, quiet and dodgy.
Every day in France we would have 3 different types of sweet
french bread from the Boulangerie, we had such a lovely routine.
We also grew even more certain of each other.
We grew used to each others constant company.
We are ourselves with each other.
It was such a beautiful trip in more ways than one.
Paid our respects to Jim Morrison at his grave.
Walked up the Eiffel Tower but refused to go to the top like the cattle.
Met Parisians galore at the river with our wine and Ryan on guitar.
Paid £12 for a wee.
Walked down the Champs Elysees.
Saw amazing things in the Louvre.
Photographed a crime scene in the metro station: blood everywhere.
Got stared at alot for being blonde.
Almost got kidnapped.
Crashed into a parked car but the lady didn't care.
Bought a tin whistle.
Made many sandwhiches.
Got mistaken for French people alot.
Had a bath.
Always had a mini balcony.
Fell in love with two cities and one man.
- Ped
this is SUCH a cute post!
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