Who's Got a Plumber?

photo, group tomoko, josef, hetti, bob, edgard, jane, richard, mark Yoko, Josef, Hetti, Bob, Edgard, Jane, Richard and Mark compose today's 'Group of the Week.'

Snowless Easter Forecast

Paris:– Thursday, 13. April 2006:– This being Thursday it must be club report day rather than being the day I report about my adventures in New York City over the past three weeks while guest 'Ed' Josef Schomburg stood or sat in as the able host of your club in Paris, which means that the weather must come first even if it is nothing to write about because it is Easter and I guess everybody knows by now that Easter in Paris has nothing to do with Hollywood's notion of April here.

On tonight's TV–weather news I could almost anticipate the cutie weather–lady perkily saying that she was willing to do her best even if the weather won't. The good news is on Friday when truly bad weather in the form of oodles of clouds will be up along the border with dark, northern Europe, and it might be semi–sunny right here where we all are. To be accompanied with a high temperature of 18 degrees which will almost allow comfortable terrace sitting unless there is a wind, about which mention was omitted.

photo, new, clean red awningThe clean, red awning of the week.

Afterwards, like on Saturday and Sunday, there is expected to be a crummy weather front passing through on the first day. The temperature is expected to be only a degree less, so I will forego my usual prediction of snow flurries.

No snow is also forecast for Sunday, which may otherwise be semi–sunny if not exactly warm with a predicted 15 degrees. According to advance information imparted tonight next Monday may have weather akin to Sunday, adding up to two semi–nice Easter days. Did I say 'for a change?' I should have because no snow is the prediction for the whole weekend. Let the bells ring but please, not too early.

Plumber, Who's Got One?

It has been a good move of a day with burbles of clouds piled up to the sky all around the horizon, quite unlike New York as I left it Tuesday glowing in sunshine with blossoms on the street trees in Queens looking like giant balls of fluffy cotton, in explosive contrast to the gloom cast by the thick iron of the elevated line seven subway that arcs across the barrio Roosevelt.

How drab in comparison is my path by the cemetery under naked sticks of trees, waiting in vain for spring's sunshine, their sap still sluggish while mine is at half–mast.

No, that is not right. I am eager to be going to a club meeting for the first time in a month. I am optimistic, full of hope, full of café and hunks of bread, yogi and orange juice, 100 percent pepped–up and ready to rock. Yeah, yeah, yeah, but it's darn cloudy and the air is cool. But damnit, it's scooter time!

photo, salt, mustard, pepper Spice for today's meeting.

As if it has heard my innermost thoughts the line four Métro crashes into the Raspail station as I hit the platform and I join the other passengers downtown bound, zip through the tunnels, getting a show of the colorful new posters extolling the virtues of telephoning and TV via DSL, merely 29.99 for three months until it pops up to 45 a month.

Beating down the alley from Odéon I pass two young things tuning up their flutes, getting ready to play for the pigeons. Then on Dauphine with its narrow sidewalk I wonder why the dodg'em down it is easier than many wider sidewalks in Manhattan. Fewer craters is the answer I guess.

My bridge is in its usual marvelous state, lying like a set of stone planks between Left and Right Banks, overlooked by lonely Samaritaine which is still closed. There are not, I note, many folk around, other than one guy who has stood his girlfriend up against Henri IV for the photo of her life.

Further along the quay today's monochrome turns to technicolor when I arrive at the club café, La Corona. It has had its awning renewed. The old dark red and dirty has been replaced by glowing bright red and clean. It should shame the sky into acting decently.

Monsieur Ferrat spies me stunned and mouth hanging open at the sight, and we exchange glad hands. Inside all working hands are full of trays of orders which are being dispatched throughout the premises, and the café's grande salle glows with its new glory, with the tired red banished, replaced by the tasteful warm hues of fake buffalo.

photo, green, orange mentheMenthe for today's meeting.

Not only this but the café is full of animated folk, no doubt weary of the dreary day outside, just beyond the red banner of the awning that wraps the café like an Easter egg taking in a fiesta. The café has been transformed into a setting worthy of the club, your club in Paris, if I may be so forward.

Patrick the 'Waiter of the Week' swings by with a tray loaded, calling out "Et, votre 'ot dog!" as if it were the finest plate of caviar and toast. Such gaiety, such contentment!

I have just read the opening paragraphs of Le Parisien's feature of the day about cops selling French ID papers to the truly deserving with money, when Hetti and Bob Wohlgemuth from Belmont, Massachusetts, announce themselves as candidates for club membership.



Their winning argument is nearly unbeatable. "Voted most boring town in Massachusetts," Bob says, without, he adds, being able to say 'voted by whom.' Assuming the spelling is correct, Belmont becomes a true and valued 'City of the Wee,' which will probably cost it that earlier vote.


Continued on page 2...
Go to page : 1 - 2
In Metropole Paris
Latest Issue
2008 Issues
2007 | 2006 | 2005
2004 | 2003 | 2002
2001 | 2000 | 1999
1998 | 1997 | 1996
In Metropole Paris
About Metropole
About the Café Club
Links | Search Site
The Lodging Page
Paris Museums List
Metropole's 1996 Tours
Metropole's 2003 Tours
Support Metropole
Metropole's Books
Shop with Metropole
Metropole's Wine
metropole paris goodblogweek button
Send email concerning the
contents to: Ric Erickson, Editor.
Metropole Midi © 2014
– unless stated otherwise.
logo, metropole sml midi logo No matter how good it tastes,
there is no such thing
as a free lunch.
Waldo Bini