WARNING: This post is long and reads like a "what I did at summer camp" letter from an 11 year old. I just don't have the strength to be witty.
I was a big girl and found my way around the London Tube all by myself. (I have a secret desire to one day write a book about how a city's public transportation says a lot about its inhabitants, but I won't go into that here). Ammo (previous roommate in Paris, longtime friend) met me at the train station. Went for a quick chilled rose in a cafe across the street while waiting for our friend Kate who was taking the Eurostar an hour after me. Barely 10 minutes of being in Paris and I'm already 3 cigarettes down and drinking at a bar.
I've missed Paris, its grayness, its arrogance. The people. But I won't wax lyrical, I went here to see friends and get drunk. And my goal is quickly on it's way to completion.
We are soon back in our old stomping grounds, the quartier Mouffetard. Strange to walk into Fifth bar with Ammo both as mere patrons, as opposed to bartender and wannabe bartender. But I guess it is a feeling I'll have to get used to.
The next day we go shopping for our friend's new baby before going to see her and her new son. We walk out with nothing for the baby, and lots of clothes for us. I basically stole a pair of jeans. They had no price tag, but were among other jeans listed at 17.99. The cashier goes to check the price and comes back with 3.99 as the price. I try to contain my surprise and take out the money to pay. Quickly before they realizelise their mistake. However Ammo and Kate are not so smooth.
"Oh my God! 3.99?? That's amazing! How did you do that? "
"Yeah seriously Lauren, I can't believe you're getting those jeans for only 3.99, that's insane"
I am trying to simultaneously give Kate and Ammo evil death stares to shut them up, while attempting to play it cook in front of the cashier, who is clearly amused.
As soon as we're out of the store, I yell at them for being so uncool, and then jump up and down screaming "I can't believe these jeans are only 4 dollars!"
Went to visit baby, who is only a week old. He is perfect. I nearly cry when I hold him. Ammo, being the ever maternal one, pushes the baby away, saying "don't spit up on me, Child". Now I want to have children purely for the ability to use "child" as an insult. It works with any age too. "Stop crying like that, 6 year-old " " This isn't real tequila, 31 year old".
Had a quick drink in the Shebeen, another ex-pat bar. I was telling Ammo how for the first time Paris doesn't feel like home anymore. I've finally moved on.
"Well you know what they say" - she said
"No, what do they say?"
"Home is where the heart is"
"Yeah, they do say that. "
"All the time."
Finally convinced the girls to go for Sushi. I had pile upon pile of sashimi. it had been way too long. I might have to open a Japanese restaurant next door to my apartment in Nottingham in order to feed my fix.
Spent Wednesday cuddling up with Ammo and blobbing around the house, she made me a delicious lasagna. Much better than my own, the bitch. Then we went out for my last night.
I first went to the shebeen to see my "brother" Anto. I fortunately ran into another friend, Marion. So we talked out on the terrace knocking back a few cold ones (well she talked, I tried to get a word in edge wise). We were having a lovely time when all of a sudden, a kitten fell from the sky onto the street in front of us. A kitten. From the SKY. We ran over to it, and I picked it up, turns out he had fallen out of the 6th floor of the building above the bar. Although the kitten was meowing quite a bit, I think he was ok. But I was relunctant to give it back to the guy. Who lets kittens jump out of their window?
Well, once the kitten fiasco was behind me, I went to Fifth Bar, hooked up my iPod to the stereo system and we had an all night sing-a-long. Drank too much, and sang a bit too loudly, but I had a blast, despite the many inward groans when Kate and I rocked out a bit too hard to Hanson's acoustic version of MMMBop.
Despite our inebriated state, Ammo and I went back to her place and drank more wine while writing a letter to Kylie Minogue asking her to give us money. We woke up in the morning to find paper filled with incoherent scribble from the both of us.
Contemplated throwing up, but decided to eat vache qui rit instead and get on the train.
Back on the Eurostar and I can feel the Flu coming to invade my body. The closer I get to England, the worse I feel. Stephane met me on the platform and I have been in his attentive care ever since. Yes. It is true what they say: Home is where the heart is. Now who wants to send me some sushi?
Here is my friend's adorable balcony.
This me and Marion outside the Shebeen just before the kitten tried to commit suicide.
Here is Kate with her beautiful eyes.
Me and JC. The man who makes the best warm goat's cheese salad you will ever eat.
And now this is me with the flu, unable to yell at stephane for taking my unwanted photo in such a vulnerable state.