Many things happened today but the one in my mind as I head to dreamtime will be the steak. Steak frites. At Bouillon Chartiers. It’s old, very well established and cheap. On the edge of Montmartre, before the size of the roads cut down, in a little mews, likely converted as soon as it became apparent that horses were no longer the future. Likely the original owner made creative use of his stable. Now it sells steakfrites. And there’s always a queue. The queue moves fast, so if you know, you know. I saw people rebound from the queue, but I was in it for no time really and the food was brilliant.
We are still getting to know each other and there’s a new team member just arrived. We both went and threw loads of heavy stuff around first thing. We got a van where it shouldn’t have been. We had a good hard day.
But I’m trying to write sense with one eye open. And about half an hour ago I got an impossible list due before 9. I’ll make some of it possible but one of the other teams borrowed the transit which means I’ll have to swing around in the Luton – which just further reduces the car park options. Still, I got it into some very narrow places. All will be well but even if it is only one minute past midnight I’m going to sleep with no further thought. xx
AlBarclay 