I bought new boots on the weekend. It took quite a lot of wandering up and down the streets, in and out of shops, trying on and pulling off. They are different in style to what I normally wear. CP gave a barely-discernible shudder when he saw them and said, “They’re a bit scary, aren’t they?” That was because they are pointy. For some reason CP immediately associated them with a swift (and scary) coup au zizi. So to speak. Hopefully I would never have any need to give such a coup.
Here I am thinking about them, and wondering if I have made the right choice:And this is a view of the points:
Yesterday I caught up with an old friend from Melbourne, SH, who lives near CP on the Ile-Saint Louis. We went for un chocolat chaud a l’ancienne in a fairly touristy cafe near her home (which is in the heart of tourist territory given that it has a gorgeous view of Notre Dame) with an unusually attentive waiter who took it upon himself to give her a hasty shoulder massage as he walked past us. We both raised our eyebrows at each other. “Does that often happen here?” I queried. No, she assured me. It doesn’t.
Last night I went to the theatre. CP was performing in a remount of a play Etty Hillesum, in which he is one of four performers, playing violin (music he composed) as well as acting with some proudly delivered lines. It was all in French, but CP had given me a copy of the script in English to read beforehand. Despite that, it was hard to follow the dialogue. Afterwards, one of his friends asked me if I had enjoyed it. Yes, I had, I replied, but added honestly that I hadn’t really understood it.
“Oh”, she said, surprised. “What didn’t you understand?”
“The French”, (of course), I replied! I think she thought I meant the storyline of the play. Anyway…