Day 35: Paris

Highlights:

• Blitzstein's Airborne Symphony
• Running around Parc Monceau
• Monoprix to Chablis

I listened to Bernstein's own compositions next (Beethoven, Berlioz, Bernstein... you can guess the way these discs are ordered). I didn't like it. It was no heart breaking Puerto Rican passionate love story. I skipped it, and went on to the next composer. I've not got time for this rubbish. This next piece by Marc Blitzstein* was much more up my alley. It came with a sort of (what I imagine, as I've never seen) Pirates of Penzance chorus singing. Like 'A Girl Worth Fighting For' in Mulan. Much jollier. It also had some unusual narration, but I really liked that. Feeling slightly concerned about the disc per day ratio I'd left myself with (erm, 2.1 days and c. 51 discs), I went for a treble today and whacked on a bit of Brahms next, whilst getting ready to go for a run.

The sun had been shining, the wind direction was probably alright, and the streets were clear. Perfect nonchalant jogging conditions. I stepped onto the street, literally took three paces and it started raining cats and dogs. Chats et Chiens. So as to not look like a total idiot who'd got caught out by the rain, I ran once around the block and then put on a display of 'I've just run 20km' exhaustion as I neared my apartment block. I met a few eyes and had that sort of 'oh, isn't it good that I got back as the rain started?' funny relief shared look, and then ran up the five flights of stairs to at least get some form of workout.

I listened properly to Brahms for a bit and then decided to brave the rain. Screw it. A true runner would be out regardless. I was Paula bloody Radcliffe! As I went out again, completely in reverse the rain turned to sun after three paces. I jogged down to Parc Monceau and did a few laps, dipping in and out of the centre to see the monuments and to cross the bridges. The main entrance had cleared as I neared it the second time, and it took a blast of grit and dust to my face for me to realise people had got out of the way of the (what I can only call) dust movers. You know those guys who move the leaves in parks to one big pile using those big exhaling hoovers? These were like them, but as far as I can tell they just moved the excess path dust out of the park onto the surrounding roads. So that pleasantly put a layer of dirt on my face for the rest of the run. People started giving me strange looks, but that might also have been because of my out-of-training beetroot face and buzz lightyear sans-helmet gasps for air.

Felt on top form after the run so after a quick shower and some food**, I went out for an exploration. I was on the look out for some stereotypical parisian baby clothes for little Charge Gridley-Stickland back home (I was hoping for baby sized stripey shirts, baby sized berets and baby dummy strings that looked like garlic rings but no such luck). In the baby section of the Monoprix (I get the feeling this is the Wilkinsons/Primark Paris equivalent - the baby's not going to know the difference between slave labour goods and some high quality Yves St Laurent) I heard this really creepy female humming. Like a scene in a horror film, where it's silent except for the psycho nurse's singing, or Omar's whistling from The Wire. I looked round the corner, and she was just sort of eerily stroking some baby clothes, whilst humming some sort of rock-a-bye-baby tune. I legged it. Any longer and that voice would have seeped into my nightmares.

I headed to Le Dom cafe, which was on a corner I'd passed a billion times. It looked pretty cool from the outside, but only after I'd ordered my Chablis (wine tasting!) did I pick up on the shit pop playing in the background. Shit pop meets bad dance music. It was awful. I quickly Del Boy-accented 'L'addition Sil Vous Plait' and got outta there. Good Chablis though (AOC, Laroche) and it came with some free olives.

I stopped off for some dinner goods on the way home (olives, baby tomatoes and some french palmier biscuits. With the remaining red wine I had at the flat, that pretty much constitutes a balanced diet) and then settled in for the evening, listening to that Stereophonics track (which also coincidentally starts with some eerie whistling on repeat) as Lewis had cruelly unwired the speakers in his room and I could only play music on my phone. I did some housework (trying to remember what normal life is like, and get back into some sort of normality) and then listened to Adam and Joe's points of view music to send me to sleep. Bluh-biddy.

End of day 35.

*I've just wikipediad Blitzstein. Apparently he was a good friend of Bernstein (presumably bonding over their similar names) until he was murdered in 1964 by three Portuguese sailors
**I think I've forgotten how to cook. For lunch I made myself pasta, seasoned with salt, pepper and herbes des provence, and then scrambled some egg into the drained pasta and added some balsamic vinegar. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was hardly fine cuisine. Just thinking back on it makes me pull a funky face