I'm Outa Here

photo, ile saint louis, notre dame, seine More postrcards, thanks to the Ile–de–France sky.

Après Moi, le Déluge

by Ric Erickson

Paris:– Monday, 20. November:–  Remember that beautiful fall we had, with the warm days, gentle breezes, Champagne nights and the leaves hanging on the trees like they were married to them? Like, if you remember, please turn to page 9, stashed somewhere else on this Webpage.

Page 9, Right Here!

Why, it was as recently as Wednesday, or Friday, or Saturday. But Sunday was a touch cooler, maybe not over 10 degrees, and it rained a lot of Saturday night after I was in, in bed, snuggled under my fresh and warm wool blanket, the same color as my eyes used to be, in, you know, the good old days. Then the sun was shining yesterday, giving the leaves another one of its last flashes. But that was it. Finito!

According to tonight's – exceptionally the Sunday version – tonight's TV–weather news, all that good, retarded, stuff is at an end. It's over. Fall is finished. Weep if you must but say goodbye to it. This isn't just because this is exactly what I'm doing first thing Monday morning – Adios Boggleville! – but because the weather lady trotted out a set of maps for the coming week and they weren't pretty.

photo, rain in st germain Rain in Saint Germain.

First off there is going to be some wind, all of 70 kph gusts from the southwest, headed for the northeast. Still kinda warm in other words. Then there's to be a great wall of clouds, lying along the wind direction, from Biscay to Luxembourg. It's the plumber says Sunday's Le Parisien,.

On Tuesday there might be tiny and ocasional peeps of sun poking through the murk above the diagonal, while below it the country will be socked in. The temperature is still expected to be 12 degrees. There might be the southwest wind too, but this was specifically mentioned as being a Wednesday feature. Divide France in half from top to bottom and color the western half gray. The right half won't be much better and in any case, Paris i`s on the line.

Gray, gray, gray is the story for Thursday. Okay, switch out one of those and flip rainy in its place. Drop the high temperature down two degrees to 10 and you'll have a good idea of the future. By this time the weather lady was saying all of this was no better than a probable 3 out of 5, so if you want to bet on sunshine the house odds are not too bad. But the house being the house, the odds aren't terrible rosy either.

This week I'm ahead of schedule so the Pommeland forecast hasn't arrived from Météo Jim yet. The past week in New York wasn't so terrible. What Jim wrote –

La Der Des Der?

Today, November 11, Armistice Day or Veterans Day as it is known in Pommeland and La der des der in Paris, the Rest of Paris which is France and Outre–France, also known as Europe, is being celebrated. The weather is smiling on the veterans. Today the parades and marchers have sunshine and temperatures in the upper 60s to near 70 a–grade. But by this time tomorrow rain and a possible Nor'easter will be visiting Pommeland with temperatures around 60 degrees a–grade.

photo, cafe, champagne On a sunlit terrace.

A quick review of the week that was wet showed that 4 inches – 10 e–100ths-meters – of rain fell in the greater Pommeland area. The weather service is still issuing flash flood alerts for gutters, creeks, smaller streams and their tributaries.

As for the coming week, temperatures will stay around 60 but rain will arrive on Friday and bring cooler temperatures. It is mid–autumn, but the temperatures do not want to agree with the calendar.

Surprise Week–Old Monday Update!!!

Thanks to Metropole's prescient and all knowing gift of 20/20 hindsight, the following update is issued for Pommeland's weather.

The drenchies, the drips and drops, the spritzes and the rainy day feeling will continue off and on throughout the week until Friday when we will have more weather in the form of sun and cooler temperatures. Temperatures will creep up through the 60s until Friday.

The above message is true. If the facts change, disregard them because the truth is true and unchanging.

A la prochaine , Météo Jim

Watch this spot carefully for updates.

Café Life

I'm Outa Here

By the time you read this I might be 11,000 metres over the Atlantic and heading west. If you read this too soon I will still be here under that wool I mentioned but by the time you hit the sack I'll be airborne, in a flying sardine can not watching movies made for – who do they make those movies for?

photo, daguerre market, sundayThe marché canyon, with a sunlit tree.

But first I will get to Roissy, like a day ahead of time, in order to stand around a lot with a lot of other harmless folks while a cohort of the formerly jobless go through the motions of looking for terroristic types of items that all of us hapless travellers just happen to – no man! We won't, we don't. We are all brainwashed into believing that the person ahead of us in line is a dangerous dude.

Yeah, yeah, he's a wife–beater in real life. That lady there, she's wired to cold remedies. Every winter she goes on a bender. Better frisk her. She might be carrying a hardball made out of old kleenex. That kid over there, the one with the wires in his head – obviously one of a highschool gang that terrorizes Mr. Biggin's apple orchard. We are surrounded by dangerous characters. Yeah, instead of just being crammed into a dirty seat in a dirty plane for, for – how many hours is it?

I don't know about you but my Air France flight is only going to take two hours to cross the whole Atlantic. This is why I have to get to the airport 6 hours early. They sent me an email today that said I could print my ticket in the comfort of my own home. Used to, you bought a ticket, the airline printed it for you. Lousy ticket. Said I could punch it in myself and print out the boarding pass anyplace in the airport.

photo, light, dark, louvreA sky with character.

Oh why then, can't I search myself before I leave home and jump the line when I get there? Is it an employment program? Who is it exactly who they don't trust? The answer is, it's me. Well fine, we are even. I don't trust them either. My head will be down and I am going to sleep the whole time I'm in there.

This rant has been interrupted. I have to go and stand in line now. Pretty soon now, I hope, I'll be outa here.

The 'Hysterical BJ Day' Café Metropole Club 'Report'

Far less than dozen members and the club's secretary lounged around last Thursday for the 3rd meet in November which coincided with a very famous day in France. Not even Mark was missing. We salute you, Mark! The whole report of this memorable meeting is online, like stunning. It was a BJ Nouveau, BJ Nouveau! meeting and the subhead was, Annual Red Plonk Day Again – in honor of the red plonk.

photo, fiat 500The Fiat 500 of the week.

The coming meeting of the Café Metropole Club will be on the 2nd Thursday in January. The Saint of the Day on 11. January is unknown at this time. Other than Saint Edmond, I couldn't even find a saint for today, a lousy Monday. My calendar says Saint–Edmond but Wikipedia–France never heard of the dude. They have saints to spare but no Saint–Edmond. What's the matter with them?

Flimsy facts about the club and its legends are strewn around a thing named the About the Club Webpage. If you have a highly developed grasp of deduction you won't require it to examine some true stories, some idle speculation, and don't overlook overlooking the club's motley hand–fashioned membership card before its update, impending now for the past 21 months.

photo, sign, quai voltaire

This Was Metropole Ten Years Ago

This highly popular feature has fallen by the wayside after being updated every flipping week for 9 mindboggling years. It continues to be unavailable this week because I'm out the door this am. After dreaming up a new flimsy excuse–à–week here for the past ten weeks this is the best I can do. What more to know than Ten Years Later...?

Café Life Légère 104.8

Widespread Lying

photo, sign, rue de jouy

The Quote of the Week has been having hard times but this week we have a splendid one for you, even if it puts you to sleep. For some reason Margaret Atwood once said, possibly wrote, perhaps whistled, "It's a feature of our age that if you write a work of fiction, everyone assumes that the people and events in it are disguised biography – but if you write your biography, it's equally assumed you're lying your head off." In the official version that's all there was, but enough is enough. First I'm lying and second this is fiction.

The Wobble–W Corner

There are a mere 41 days left of this year, the same number that 270 had when Gaius Valerius Galerius Maximinus was born. He was originally a peasant named Daia, born in the Danubian region of Europe, in the newly reorganised Roman province of Dacia Aureliana. To cut a long story full of Roman names short, our Daia became emperor for exactly 5 years, and the rest is dismal history.

Helio Pataphysics

This is totally unconnected to the fact that this year has used up 324 days, the same number that 1902 had when Henri Desgrange and fellow journalist Géo Lefèvre flew the first helicopter in – no, that was last week's wonderful Pataphysics. This week's two geezers invented the Tour de France bicycle race and made their newspaper famous, sold lots of copies, and popped off so many magnums of Champagne that this drink became famous too. Actually this Henri was very shy. That's what it says here.

photo, sign, au planteur, aucune succursale

Wretched Red Plonk Day

As hard as it might be to believe that Beaujolais Nouveau was invented, it is nevertheless true. What began as a gimmick to get rid of bathtub wine in 1951 has continued to get rid of bathtub wine with considerable success. You are supposed to drink it all on the third Thursday in November, which this year is on the 16th, but if you can't get rid of it all you can pretend it is rosé and serve it very cold, up until next summer. Correction – this year's red plonk was still being quaffed by the bucket on Friday and on Saturday too.

What Is In Names

Often forgotten if it were not for Metropole to remind you that John the Duke of Burgundy and Louis of Valois once had a solemn truce that lasted three whole days until John had Louis bumped off. Actually there are too many Jeans in this story for me to provide the details in a manner that any sane person could understand. Suffice to say that after a long time another Louis was king until he lost his head and the French lost their taste for having Louis' for kings.

Formerly Question of Schleswig–Holstein

In 1912 an emperor was born today and he grew up to become Otto von Habsburg. Austrians as they were then known, were pleased to have a king whose name could be spelled backwards, and the rest is, quite naturally, rather more dismal history.

A bientôt à Paris
signature, regards, ric

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