Chez Spud

Just following up on yesterday’s strange post about quilts of MIA and dead people (you’ll have to read it to get it)…a number of you asked what the photo was that I used. It’s part of the entrance to the Palais Royale Metro station in Paris. Only the French could make something so mundane as [...]

I’m certain blogging would be a quicker process if I didn’t have the urge to cram every post with as many photos as possible, but since a picture speaks a thousand words and I’ve already got more than enough words for a lifetime I guess the photos are here to stay. Best buy another couple [...]

Only a French chap could get away with this – drain pipe blue trousers, pale orange socks and tan boots. The whole outfit was super chic (French again). Ideally I’d have snapped the entire ensemble (look, French yet again! I’m on a roll) but I’d passed out on the pavement, swept away by his Gallic [...]

Success! I managed to order breakfast and, you know, actually get some. Am linguist extraordinaire (look, French again. I’m pretty much bilingual now).
Not a can of coke in sight. 1-0 to Spud.

… although not enough to eat snails I will confess. These gigantic, garlicy ones were snaffled by my friend’s husband while I looked on in horror. Meanwhile I nibbled some melon and drank 25 pints of wine, ouch my head.
Also ouch my poor feet. I walked miles yesterday in what turned out to be literally [...]