"A Geezer Meeting"

The 'first' here is the photographer not backing into the traffic roaring along the Quai du Louvre.

Cheese Is the 'Thing of the Week'

Paris:- Thursday, 26. September 2002:- i have lost my fanatical interest in TV-news weather reports, predictions and forecasts - until enough of the occupants of my building ask the guardian to turn on the heat, which they haven't done yet.

When I passed a pharmacy this morning about 12:30 its green-neon flashing bandage sign was indicating '26' in red. I thought maybe it had been taking some mind-altering drugs until the red neon switched to 14 C Even this seemed a bit on the high side.

The only thing I didn't have on my bed last night was a Hudson's Bay blanket. But I had two other ones, each folded in half, to double their effect. It was so good I was unconscious all morning.

But before I saw the terrible message of the pharmacy's sign, in the Monoprix I bought a jumbo box of nose-sneezers, plus a six-pack of the portable ones. Then, outfitted with my standard mid-winter scarf, I set out for the club, after first ingesting 500 grains of the best Paracetamol.

If I had any rum I would have had a couple of double-toddies spiked with vodka too, but I decided to be reasonable and take my chances.

What I remember of the métro ride was forgettable. Emerging from the depths at the Rue de Rivoli, it did notice the rain though because I foolishly forgot that a hat is part of my mid-winter getup.

In revenge the rain increases intensity as I thread through my habitual route of 500-year-old alleys to the club's café, La Corona. Needless to say, to write, there are no terrassians anywhere on the Quai du Louvre.

In the café everyone habitually asks how I am. I always take this as a personal question instead of automatically saying, 'Ca va bien.' Today it isn't going 'bien' at all. But I'm not telling ten-eleven people about the lack of heat-vote, the blankets, the pharmacy sign, the Paracetamol or the fictional rum-toddies. I sum it up with 'bien' instead.

Club member Richard Miller arrives shortly after I collapse into the 'Ed's' seat in the café's club area. We both think the last time he was at club meeting was in 1998 before it started, but finally figure out he came by while on his way to see the Porsches at the big car show in 2000. This show starts again on Saturday. Richard says he isn't sure he's going to see it this year.

He also says he was accosted by a young lady looking for an apartment to rent, while standing in line to get into one of the private museums. I haven't the energy necessary to look up its spelling, so I'll just say it's the neat one near the Parc Monceau.

Sue and Doug Fuss arrive from Sicily. Doug looks at the secretary - me - and Richard, and says, "This is the geezer meeting."

Before the Paracetamol will allow me to dispute this accusation, Ellen and Richard Campbell arrive from Rouge River, Oregon. I immediately declare Rouge River to be the 'City of the Week' just in case I forget it before the end of the meeting.

Here is why - my notes do not say who said, "The Café Metropole in Savannah closed forever because its roof fell in and nobody wanted to do anything about it."

Sue and Doug are from Savannah, but since they've just come from a wedding in Sicily, I think it might be Richard who knows about abandoned Café Metropoles. Mentioning 'dry' counties in East Texas he says, "This way the 'wets' get their liquor and the 'drys' get their laws."

Meaning - for European readers - that two adjoining counties aren't allowed to be both 'wet' or both 'dry.' As far as I know, all European countries are all 'wet,' because nobody here could remember this 'checkerboard rule.'

On no, I have to correct myself already. Sweden is only partly 'wet.' People who want booze get more than is good for them and everybody else gets prohibition. Like in Nevada, distances in Sweden are not measured in 'miles' or 'klicks,' or 'Swedish miles,' but in the numbers of beers consumed, in Nevada - or not consumed, in Sweden - between liquor stores.

This is Ellen and Richard's second visit to Paris. They didn't finish their first visit so they have returned to 'pick up where they left off.'

Ellen wants to know what it happening in front of the Hôtel de Ville today. It was public transport and carless day last weekend, but it could be anything now - probably the latest new 'Thing of the Week.' I tell them about the server-lady's 'Tip of the Week' - about the 1000 cheeses in the Tuileries this week.

Doug says digital photography was invented so people could sell junk on the auction Web site 'eBay.' Richard says his brother found an authentic early-model plastic Christmas tree that he wanted.

Don Smith, from Seattle, arrives from where he's staying in the plastic Christmas tree part of the 14th. Not that it has anything to do with Don, but the club's area is getting smoked out by three café customers parked just outside the no-smoking area.

A mixed couple are both smoking pipes at one table, and a single man is not smoking endless lit Gitanes at another table, and the smoke from all of them makes 'Waiter of the Week' Patrick cough when he brings my 'Café of the Week.' A café witer coughing on account of smoke in a café means it is serious smoke.