And it’s goodbye from me and au revoir from him.
Dinner on Wednesday evening was again back to the restaurant just across the street. I was going to have fish but the temptation of the duck was far too strong and Mathieu had a huge bowl of moules (mussels) that he didn’t know the restaurant did! So that was a revelation! He spotted two chaps noshing them on an adjoining table.
Come the dawn, we had a leisurely breakfast dans le maison de Mathieu.
Possibly the biggest baguette in the world! And then another adventure on the Metro to the place de la republique and time for a coffee and to watch the world go by.
We then strolled leisurely through an Arabic quarter and then into a Chinese district, heading towards a Thai restaurant for lunch. It was in an area that Mathieu grew up in and knew very well indeed.
Some amazing buildings and the odd window display that nearly spoilt my appetite! It reminded me of the, butchers where I grew up in Salford, where rabbits were hung happily outside the premises. It’s remarkable how sanitised we have become in the UK. We paused at yet another bar but this time for a pre lunch beer. The little restaurant was very quiet and you could hear yourself talk very easily; such a blessing that is not possible in many English restaurants these days – or is that just me?
I forgot to take a picture of the delicious Thai salad starter before I ate it. Sorry! But as unbelievable as it may seem I plumped once more for duck. At least I’m consistent, if also incredibly unadventurous!
And that was that folks. My flight was at 18-05 and Mathieu very kindly drove me to the airport. There is no charge for dropping someone off at Charles de Gaulle – Gatwick and Heathrow please note! Why do we put up with being ripped off in this country?
We left Paris as the sun set and the flight was only delayed by thirty minutes, and at least this time I did have a window seat – paying £8 again to change it. Why? They do see me coming don’t they? We flew in over London and you can see Battersea Power station to the right of the bridge. Landing at a C gate meant a good old walk to the little shuttle train and by the time I got to passport control, I must have looked fairly old and knackered because a kind lady raised one of those ribbon partitions so I didn’t have to do that pointless zig-zagging. These are fine when there is a crowd to control but a tad stupid when there isn’t. So happily hobbling to the automated Heathrow pod parking, imagine my deflation as a sign and a load of barriers told me it wasn’t working. I had instead to go in search of bus stop number 28. Fantastic! I always love a happy ending, don’t you?
Thanks for reading – hope you enjoyed the trip! Malcolm 🇫🇷✈️🇬🇧🥖🍷