The travels of Brammers, part 11 (probably)

As many of you probably know, I have bad feet. This comes from shattering one of them and a mix of balleting and overcompensating with the other. So, if you were in Musee d'Orsay or the Louvre yesterday, and small a short woman creeping about in stockinged feet, my apologies.  Also, if you were in the Renaissance Gallery of the Decorative Arts section of the Richleau wing of the latter institution and saw same said stockinged figure swearing ineptly in four languages, that was the point at which my camera card was full. Not a single painting seen! My computer's death is an ongoing source of woe, as I cannot unload. Not to fear, there is an FNAC nearby and I will stop there on the way out for a new one. Since our last update, I have been stalking the Musee Cluny. It is just around the corner from our hotel, and rewards repeated visits. There was an entire room of jewellery that had been closed to me on my first visit, for example. Yesterday's jaunt began later than I had meant it to, and so I was not even on my way back to the hotel until midday, at which point raitala and pingrid were stirring and half-dressed. Young people, let this stand as a solemn warning of the dangers of drink. There had been an inkling the night before that this could be the case: 'We shouldn't open the second bottle.' 'No, we should. Brammers will drink some.' 'Oh no I won't, I've already brushed my teeth.' 'Well, if we open it we'll drink all of it and then we will feel seedy.' 'If we drink just a little ...' 'Excellent plan! We can stop easily!' Time passes ... 'Oh no! We drank it all!' 'No, there is a glass left!' Much more to add, but pin is ready to run out on a breakfast mission, so I will save it for later, assuming I can wrangle a computer. Woe is a dead laptop!

The travels of Brammers, part 11 (probably)

As many of you probably know, I have bad feet. This comes from shattering one of them and a mix of balleting and overcompensating with the other. So, if you were in Musee d'Orsay or the Louvre yesterday, and small a short woman creeping about in stockinged feet, my apologies.  Also, if you were in the Renaissance Gallery of the Decorative Arts section of the Richleau wing of the latter institution and saw same said stockinged figure swearing ineptly in four languages, that was the point at which my camera card was full. Not a single painting seen! My computer's death is an ongoing source of woe, as I cannot unload. Not to fear, there is an FNAC nearby and I will stop there on the way out for a new one. Since our last update, I have been stalking the Musee Cluny. It is just around the corner from our hotel, and rewards repeated visits. There was an entire room of jewellery that had been closed to me on my first visit, for example. Yesterday's jaunt began later than I had meant it to, and so I was not even on my way back to the hotel until midday, at which point raitala and pingrid were stirring and half-dressed. Young people, let this stand as a solemn warning of the dangers of drink. There had been an inkling the night before that this could be the case: 'We shouldn't open the second bottle.' 'No, we should. Brammers will drink some.' 'Oh no I won't, I've already brushed my teeth.' 'Well, if we open it we'll drink all of it and then we will feel seedy.' 'If we drink just a little ...' 'Excellent plan! We can stop easily!' Time passes ... 'Oh no! We drank it all!' 'No, there is a glass left!' Much more to add, but pin is ready to run out on a breakfast mission, so I will save it for later, assuming I can wrangle a computer. Woe is a dead laptop!

The travels of Brammers, part, oh buggered if I know

Tonight was going to be just pingrid and I. Alas, that was before Eurostar cancelled today. The good news is that we have another night of raitala , the bad news is that raitala is stuck here for another night. However, we trekked to the Gare du Nord and asked the nice Eurostar people what the story was, since the website was profoundly useless and the phones took uselessness out to biblical proportions. As a result, rai and I will be at Gare du Nord tomorrow morning at 8am, and I will be doing the third-worst Australian accent in the world as I try to convince people from Eurostar that we desperately need to fly home to Australia on Monday so that I can check on my baby, which I have left with my pet dingo. In fact I need to fly home on Tuesday, but rai has family Christmas tomorrow, which may not be quite as dramatic to Eurostar staff, but is far more urgent to my mind, hence my awful lie. Happily there are any number of Australians who will be doing something similar, so we should be able to sneak through undetected as long as I can keep my early Nicole Kidman impersonation running. For now we are off to Notre Dame, having made the mistake of eating at a restaurant chosen on the basis of proximity rather than edibility. Some magnificent architecture will help salve our wounds. Fingers crossed tomorrow will be back in South Kensington for me. But I did take a photo of everything in Versailles that was gayer than the very gay average. Alas, no pix till my computer is reborn, but they will be worth the wait.

The travels of Brammers, part, oh buggered if I know

Tonight was going to be just pingrid and I. Alas, that was before Eurostar cancelled today. The good news is that we have another night of raitala , the bad news is that raitala is stuck here for another night. However, we trekked to the Gare du Nord and asked the nice Eurostar people what the story was, since the website was profoundly useless and the phones took uselessness out to biblical proportions. As a result, rai and I will be at Gare du Nord tomorrow morning at 8am, and I will be doing the third-worst Australian accent in the world as I try to convince people from Eurostar that we desperately need to fly home to Australia on Monday so that I can check on my baby, which I have left with my pet dingo. In fact I need to fly home on Tuesday, but rai has family Christmas tomorrow, which may not be quite as dramatic to Eurostar staff, but is far more urgent to my mind, hence my awful lie. Happily there are any number of Australians who will be doing something similar, so we should be able to sneak through undetected as long as I can keep my early Nicole Kidman impersonation running. For now we are off to Notre Dame, having made the mistake of eating at a restaurant chosen on the basis of proximity rather than edibility. Some magnificent architecture will help salve our wounds. Fingers crossed tomorrow will be back in South Kensington for me. But I did take a photo of everything in Versailles that was gayer than the very gay average. Alas, no pix till my computer is reborn, but they will be worth the wait.