Paris:- Friday, 17. January 1997:- It is a little more cloudy today than it was on Wednesday in Boulogne and it is probably warmer, as I stroll down the long slope of the avenue Hoche away from the Etoile, towards the Parc de Monceau and its over-elaborate entry grille. It is far away, in spirit, from any worker's or artist's paradise.

Am I, in fact, strolling? After Boulogne, I think I am slogging; thinking, wondering if this trip is necessary.

I have already been to the Irish Embassy, to the Paris Tourist Office - no new posters, no mention of the opening of the Music Museum out at La Villette - and I have dropped off a packet at the avenue de Friedland palace of the Chamber of Commerce. This Parc de Monceau is not on the way to a needed siesta.

The Hôtel Royal Monceau is calmly and expensively holding down its bit of Hoche sidewalk. The Royal Saudi Embassy is right after, looking a bit fortress-like with it big guard in a little cabin, overlooked by video cameras. The next-door Japanese are not far from their fuel suppliers; it is the embassy no less. After the bustle of the rue Faubourg Saint Honoré, this is the quiet end of Hoche and rue de Courcelles.

The imposing and gilded grille at the entry, by Davioud, and the three others like it at the other entries, cost 500,000 francs - but that is nothing for a park originally named 'La Folie de Chartres.'

Today, at this entry, it is a 'folie' of kids - about 200 of them, from nearby schools, and they are doing kid things outside between lunch and afternoon classes, with a great deal of enthusiasm. Their minders watch me pass through without tripping over hop scotchers or getting entangled in skipping ropes.

Beyond the kids the park is nearly empty. In summer its lawns - don't walk on them! - are very well-kept and I am surprised to see that some trees have full loads of green leaves and they do not look like conifers, of which there are a few varieties too.

I have completely mis-read the map of the layout. Either that of the map mis-named all the surrounding streets on purpose. I see a lumpy hill with steps on it, but they are behind the 'keep off the grass' fence. A few steps further and there is the tip of the pyramid - I am found again!

The first 'Folie' I ever saw was a private one. It had a pyramid made out of what looked like paving stones, a fountain for geese to bathe in and a Japanese gate. It is too late to ask the owner about this and it is a shame because he was a well-known art historian, and probably knew the all about history of 'folies.'

This Monceau park is such a 'folie' but on a grander scale and it was built for by Louis-Philippe d'Orléans, Duke of Chartres, in 1778. It also has a pyramid and I am glad I found it. It looks silly. I think it is supposed to look silly; because it is too small to be the real thing. I can imagine Carmontelle, the architect of this version of a park, saying something like, "If we are to have a chinese pagoda, a tartar tent, some nymphs, a river and some ponds, some fake ruins - the Naumachie - and a leftover arcade from the city hall (not actually acquired until after 1871), we must also have a token pyramid!"

The Duke laughed at this and wrote a blank cheque for it; and then the Revolution confiscated the whole contraption. It became a park of games and distractions after Napoléon gave it to Cambacérès, who gave it back after five years of losing money on it.

After that, and after being halved - the slightly greater part going to the usual speculators - it was acquired by the city in 1852. Haussmann's pal, Alphand got his hands on it in 1861 and transformed it into the English style so favored by Napoléon III, while conserving most of the eccentric 'folie' bits.

In winter, with most of the leaves absent, it is easy to see the buildings surrounding the park, and pretty much of everything in it, in a glance. But in summer, the greenery closes in and the park becomes larger as the length of sight is cropped.

On the edge of the 8th arrondissement, hard by the 17th, the Parc de Monceau is not in the poorest quarter of Paris. There are few nannies with their charges today; I guess the time is off too. I have seen them here in summer, sitting under the stifling greenery, waiting for a breeze - with all the grass, so green and well-cared for, inviting reclinements - but forbidden, verboten, keep off!

I check out the colonnaded 'Naumachie' and its iced-over pond that is supposed to be a training landing-spot for ducks and then head for the Courcelles exit by the original, also colonnaded, rotonde, called the Chartres Pavillon.

The Duke of Orléans had a salon in it from which he could overlook the 'plain of Monceau,' while customs agents lurked below watching for contraband goods entering the city.

In the Duke's absence, he may rest assured that nobody was walking or attempting to lie on the grass today. I am going home and do it where it is legal and will have no fear of grass stains.