Paris:- Tuesday, 17. December 1996:- I have a theory about the writer of the following letter - where he lives, an illness known as 'cabin fever' is fairly common.

From: Terence Harding, via the Internet Date: Tue,17 Dec 1996 11:34 Subject: Platforms for Kids

I wish I were in Paris right now. I would go to Printemps and look at the windows. It's one of my favourite memories of the city. Of course the fact that I was also in the company of a stunningly beautiful Martiniquaise of my acquaintance may also have something to do with it.

The first time I went to look at the store windows, I was pleased to see that they had a little step in front of them that you could stand on and get a real good look. It was only when the kid behind me asked his father why I was standing where only kids were supposed to that I realized I had made a gaffe. When I do things like that in France I usually turn to the crowd and tell them I am from Nebraska.

The last time I was in Paris I came very close to doing something on the métro which I have always wanted to do. I want to stand up and tell people that I am sorry for disturbing them but that I have a strange story to tell. I will say I have a job, how I ate last night and have a place to live and I do not want to sell them any magazines. In fact what I want to do is to give them money. Then I would proceed to hand out one franc pieces to anyone who wanted one.

My Dear Mr. Harding,

I can only assume that you are either very near-sighted or short, or both. But you are right; as can be seen from the Christmas Window Contest photos in this issue: kids heads do get in the way - they cut the view, but show that the photos were taken under real conditions, without the aid of PR departments or step-ladders.

As for your dream-métro speech, I think most public transport users in Paris have heard so many of these appeals, that they would consider yours to be abusively gratuitous - one franc indeed! - and toss you out a window into a tunnel somewhere a long way between stations.

Judging from what I see every time I am using public transport, the situation is getting desperate - musicians, who used to work the trains even in good times and were appreciated by a fair number, no longer bother because on an average day one hears at least ten appeals - that are desperation pure and simple. The puppet show is gone, the singers and the bands are gone, the accordionists are gone; I haven't seen the harpist in some time - only hard times ride the trains forlornly looking for meal tickets or a few coins.

Although it makes travellers feel rotten, there are no fancy food windows to be seen underground in the métro and it is warm.

Regards, Ric