Best 6€ Chicken!

photo, apertif, table, cafe cup, pastis, sunday We walked kilometres for café on Sunday.

Hawaii Hurricane Alert

by Ric Erickson

Paris:– Monday, 13. August:–  Boy, it is quiet. The weather has stopped being flamboyant because most Parisians seem to be absent. TV reports are showing some folks on holidays, dripping wet, putting on happy faces for the TV cameras and secretly cursing, vowing to take their next summer holidays in Spain, like I did after several cool summers in Normandy and Brittany.

Three Days of Phooey

It just goes to show that high hopes can be deceptive when nothing else works. At the end of tonight's TV–news Françoise said that Valerie would give us the full weather, so I dried my hands, picked up my trusty Bic and prepared for the whole lot. Imagine my surprise when Valerie finished with Tuesday and told me to tune in to Télématin around 06:30 tomorrow!

This news service is on New York time. The break of dawn happens around noon here in Montparnasse. So, I have had to consult another source, which is extra work that costs more. Luckily you do not have to pay the value–added tax on this.

photo, corona terrace, gray sky That sky is too familiar.

Part one, Tuesday, according to Valerie:– despite many threatening dark clouds along our northwestern horizon, and a 70 kph breeze batting up the Channel, it is supposed to be mostly sunny here and the temperature will be quite nice at 26 degrees.

On Wednesday, according to my other source, it may be cloudy in the morning, slightly rainy in the afternoon, and more cloudy than sunny in the evening. Forecast high is 23 or 24 degrees. Thursday will be a day of boring clouds mostly, and although the prediction calls for it to be warm – chaud – the forecast high is only 20 degrees. After this, I don't wonder that Valerie was ashamed of it. Phooey!

Fans of presidents should gargle the following weather prediction from across the Atlantic, from the backyard labo of our all–wise forecaster, Météo Jim. Like the ones we used to have in the lands of eternal rains happy as ducks and laughing like frogs, out loud.

Special Alert for Nigel

In extremely exceedingly remote far distant Pommeland, also known as Hawaii, Hurricane Flossie is heading towards the Hawaiian Islands. Hurricanes in this part of the world are rare. The last time a hurricane hit Hawaii was in 1992. If you are reading this, Nigel, put on your hard hat.

For those in nearby Pommeland who feel left out, not to worry. The end of August and early September is approaching, which is the peak time for hurricanes.

Meanwhile in downtown Pommeland, celestial wonders will be obviously absent with the next few days of perfectly ordinary weather, to wit, mostly sunny until it starts getting slightly cloudy on Thursday afternoon. High temperatures will not be all that high either with 28 tomorrow, 32 or 89 a–grad on Wednesday, and 29 degrees e–grad on Thursday, great Thursday, club day in Paris.

A la prochaine , Météo Jim, with an assist from Ed

photo, dennis moyer, uncle den den Uncle Den–Den.

Café Life

The Best 6€ Chickens

Unlike the previous week when I was all over hither and yon, last week's big excursions were on Sunday when I met Uncle Den–Den for a walk–about. With the repaired camera on board I was ready for big sights but before anything, first we had to find an open tabac. Hours later we crossed from the 14th to the bottom of the 15th arrondissement, after wandering about in streets we had never seen before, less than unaware of their existence. Streets of total stillness.

It was creepy. Imagine being in Paris and there's no dogs or little kids or bored teenagers chain–smoking, no taxis, tow trucks, Twingos or lurking police. Not even leaves were falling off the trees. There were even free parking spaces. It was eerie.

After some time, talking almost in whispers, hours later, we arrived at Pasteur, which is not lively even at the height of fêtes, but there was a café there, mysteriously open. In the desert when you are so dry you can't spit into the wind, you do not pass an open café even if your name is not Jim. We did not and it provided me with an excellent café and Uncle with a cool pastis.

And that was that. We had been saved, found the oasis by chance, had our conversational tour d'horizon and the only thing left to do was to go home, without seeing any big sights.

This afternoon I was in the Monoprix geting a few vittals and found myself behind Matt Rose at the checkout, which is called a caisse here. He looked at my stuff and asked the cashier if he could get points for it, on his Monoprix card. That is how Matt made today's profit, but I didn't care because my brand of Provençal sauce was better than his.

photo, sunset, bridge, boatOn a nicer evening.

He offered to treat me to a café. We crossed the avenue to go to a place we never go to, but it was closed. The next place was closed too. A little place around the corner was open, with a wonderful view of our RER station, and two stations of Velib' bikes. While waiting for our cafés he put advertising postcards in all of the baskets on the bikes.

A couple rode up and parked their bikes at the Velib' station. Matt asked them how they were, and they said they were fine. They looked like pros – those things seem complicated – but they said it was their first time. Matt explained about the postcards, having heard they might be illegal, but the monsieur said he didn't think so, because he was a lawyer. Matt was thrilled with this expert opinion. He had been worried he was breaking some law.

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