NO TIME TOU-LOUSE

I've been waiting to use that line for ages, I must admit

Well, one weekend and a lot of kilometres later, and I can now say I've seen at least a little of southwestern France.

Leaving late on Thursday night, we drove the 700 odd kilometres down to Albi (a town just out of Toulouse where we had a free bed waiting). Arriving at around 2am, we didn't see much of the town, but opening the shutters to a hot southern sunny day, we were greeted with a very green view of the river Tarn, and more than a little jealous that this wasn't OUR daily view!

HIGH CLASS CONFECTION

At some point every couple of weeks or so, I'll find myself lost wandering nonchalantly through a posh area of Paris (no, not all areas of Paris are posh, promise), and will stumble across what I can only describe as an haute couture chocolate shop. This shrine to hedonism distinguishes itself from the normal riffraff of plain old amazing French chocolate shops by the addition of ridiculously too good to eat chocolate art.

With Easter approaching, there is already a torturous assortment of chickens, rabbits (and for some reason I can't fathom, gnomes...one chocognome I recently spotted was meant to have a chococarrot in his chocohand, except that it had sort of slipped down to his choconetheregions and he was looking pretty excited about Easter is all can say) in the window of pretty much every other patissier. Meanwhile, the High Class chocolate simply get on with their weird and wonderful creations as part of the day to day showing off, and they might chuck in the odd chicken to prove they're paying attention.

Yesterday night, while displaying my astute knowledge of the layout of inner Paris ('where the hell we NOW? And where's the putain de metro station gone?') to a visiting friend, we found ourselves (intentionally of course) on the impossibly chic Rue Saint Honore (think Cartier), I passed by the creme de la creme of all the chocolate concoctions I've seen thus far. A giant exotic bird made of dark and white chocolate with a chocolate waterfall in the background. Wonder if they've managed to scrub my nose print off the glass yet?

GO BIO

One of the things I love about food shopping in French supermarkets (or the old fashioned outside ones, when I get the chance) is the lovely choice to 'go bio' (organic) with almost all products on the shelf - particularly the important staples of rice, flour, coffee, sugar and milk. I kind of like it when my fresh produce doesn't come with a side serving of pesticides either, but you really need to go to produce markets for that.

SALAD DAYS

I really don't know what the recommended RDI for olive oil is, but I've surely passed my monthly quota in 3 days.

Despite the shuttle too-ing and fro-ing that a "cheap" low-budget airline flight involves (which becomes progressively less cheap once you tack on all the shuttle fares), plus the guilt of the carbon miles (am I redeemed cos I don't own a car?), my mental health is thanking me, though whining a bit that I couldn't stay longer.

BARTHELONA

I'm going to Barthhhelona for a few days next week - I've been informed that they talk that way thanks to some bygone king who had a lisp, and it sort of stuck. I haven't actually confirmed that story as true, and knowing how the story machine works, it probably isn't.

Anyway, I dappled in the capriciously priced universe known as budget airlines (whose terms and conditions can be paraphrased as 'it's your funeral buddy') but didn't bother with the insurance - like, what's the worst that can happen in under a week, man? (Watch this space)

I've had a hankering to go there since discovering Gaudi - you know that he died by being hit by a tramway - and that was back when they hardly existed, how unlucky is that? (reconsiders travel insurance)

Now would be a good time to start remembering those Spanish lessons I took last year (*searching memory banks*)

What's Spanish for 'hey that guy just nicked my wallet and passport!' ?

OW

My muscles and I are not on speaking terms. No, one does not move out of a second floor apartment with a narrow stairwell, and move into a 5 story apartment with no elevator, and stay on friendly terms with ones calf or bicep muscles. A slight error on the lease agreement means we don't have water or electricity connected yet, so we're still camping out in the old apartment, with only the essentials (internet access, chocolate and wine among them).

Still, I'm pleased to report that no-one collapsed in a pile of broken furniture with issues of blood pressure and heart failure, the apartment is very lovely and we were pleasantly thrilled to discover that we actually have a clear view across to the Sacre Coeur. Which we take turns at looking at, just to make sure it's still there.