Removals Addiction Problem

Jardins demain expo outside l'Hôtel de Ville.

Photo pilfered shamelessly from Sez.

This weekend I have been mostly moving my things from Paris to London, which admittedly is one complete human pregnancy* since I moved myself from Paris. In that time my things have collected impressive volumes of dust and damp and are currently stinking out my current place with putrid mustiness. Recommendation: do not leave the country before finding somewhere dry to store your books.

I had a bit of time on Friday night and Saturday morning to see friends. Also - quite fascinatingly, you'll agree - my watch needed a new battery. While I was busy planning how to fit all this into a few hours, Vinz, erstwhile lead guitarist of Eddy-band fame, sent a text informing me that he was working but that I should drop by his shop, and go for a kwafee. I made a foray into the Marais, dodged the gay pride manifs, and found his shop. It was a watch shop. It was, in fact, the watch shop in which I had last bought a battery for my watch, two years ago, before I knew Vinz.

We kwaffeed briefly and then I ambled off past Hôtel de Ville enjoying the giant watering cans and topiary armchairs of the Jardins demain expo. Apparently this is what our gardens should have looked like the day afterwards. I checked mine when I got back to London and it didn't.

The sheer number of people asking me directions over the weekend suggests I still look French. This led to some particularly complex situations; I was, frog sample, very confused at a gaggle of old ladies who asked for directions by starting, "vous êtes de Paris?"

NonmaissimaisnonmaissibutnnnnnnnnnngtellyouwhatI'lljustgiveyoudirections.

Meanwhile I gave notice on my current flat and am moving at the end of July. Anyone got a nice place in E1?

* For temporal illustrative purposes only. I am not with child.