Somebody's Swedish Grandmother
From left, the 'Group Photo of the Week' with Blenda, Dinny, Stephen, Lauren, Walter and Elena. Rare Award for Pittsfield, Massachusetts |
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Paris:- Thursday, 8. May 2003:- This week the forecasters' batting, pitching, throwing and base-running errors are working out in our favor. Granted that yesterday was predicted to be a partly cloudy day, but it turned out to be a good-weather all-sunny day, if a bit breezy. Today's weather was forecast as rainy and stormy, but it was like yesterday, with lighter breezes. Instead of having VE Day in miserably humid rain, everybody got a nice day off in Paris and Président Chirac and the army, navy and air force didn't get damp during the ceremonies this morning. Not being a workers holiday, all the shops for essential things like food and drink, were open. This was lucky for me because I forgot to get my daily bread yesterday, and got fresh bread from my back-up boulangerie today. Every time I forget I think I will starve to death, but it never happens. Because tomorrow is not a holiday, even though clever people will have taken the 'pont' of Friday and blown town for a long weekend, the forecast is not so good. First, we will be attacked by a humid front coming from
the northwest, from the Channel. If this doesn't
do Then a magic event will happen - a sunny and warmer weekend, including maybe Monday. Do I believe this? Nah! This is too good not to be ripe for skepticism. But I repeat the prediction with 100 percent doubt in firm belief in the 'law of adverses,' which says whatever is believed, is wrong. This means that if my doubt prevails, the weather will be crummy. But if the 'law of adverses' gets the upper hand, the weather may be as predicted. I think this covers all bases and I will be caught in a squeeze-play trying to steal home. For non-baseball fans, this can be translated as the weather being likely to behave like a 'sticky wicket.' As the métro gets closer to downtown is gets full. I wonder where everybody except me is going. There are no strikes or demonstrations or protest marches or ordinary work planned for today. Not everybody gets out of the train at Châtelet which increases my curiosity. The Rue de Rivoli is not overpopulated with shoppers, and traffic seems light. It is even lighter in the back alleys I take to get to the club. On the way I stop in a cozy café called the Tour d'Argent to have my morning jolt of café. It's never too late for this. On the Quai du Louvre all of the terraces are gaily decked out with happy holiday makers drinking drinks and eating eats, including at the club's café, La Corona. Inside, in the 'grande salle,' the club's tables are free of civilians and wiped clean of grains of salt and sugar. It is a fine thing to be able to lay out the club's booklets and today's Le Parisien, without the grit. The 'Elf Affair' is the big story. There are 37
defendants, but it is basically about how three guys
skimmed This is a flimsy defense tactic, because the late Président is no longer on this planet in spirit, so it amounts to this one guy's word whether there was a blink or not, and what it meant. Président Mitterrand's nickname wasn't 'The Sphinx' for nothing. My amusement is arrested by the arrival of new member Stephen Camera- Murray, along with last week's new member, Laura Camera-Murray. The couple come from Boston, but come from San Francisco too - where they went to get in on the tail-end of the Dot-Com bust, so they got out okay because they had never gotten properly in. As a reward for themselves, they drove straight back to Boston by way of Vancouver and Calgary. Stephen says that I can put down Pittsfield, Massachusetts as the 'City of the Week.' I am glad to do this. A few minutes later Elena and Walter Srebnik arrive. They come from Laguna Beach, California. Walter tackles the club's questionnaire - not doing it is not a 'rule' - and gives 'service' in Paris a blackball, while thumbs-upping everything else. No matter how much the club's secretary tries to explain that 'service' in Paris is merely different, Walter sticks to his perceptions - which are fairly true. He won't buy the idea that even if true, they are irrelevant because it is 'Paris rules' here. The 'Waiter of the Week' sails by and reminds me that he'll be bringing me my double café at 16:00. Blenda Femenias is another new The Camera-Murrays have thimble-sized cups of café, but Blenda and the Srebniks all take soup bowls full of café. Dinny orders a Perrier and asks for a slice of lemon in the glass. The 'Waiter of the Week' says it is five minutes until my own café-time. Both Elena and Walter want to know about getting tickets to the opéra. I think the Opéra Bastille might be a good place to get tickets. Dinny says they can be purchased at the 'last-minute' ticket kiosks at Madeleine or Montprnasse, but they've always been sold out when she's tried. Continued on page 2... |
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