paris

"Pete. Guitars under bridges. Bohemian chance encounters. Left Bank bookshops. 'Underground' theatre play performed for us as the only members in the audience. Pete was going to translate it to English for them. (I still have their original script – 'Podpolie', by La Compagnie Michel Picard at the Kaleidoscope theatre). Meeting a couple of French guys (somewhere – a cafe?) drawing their portraits going to one of their parents' homes for a meal (the loo on the landing, shared with the inhabitants of the other flats, was the first time I'd encountered a squat toilet)…"

"H​ow much of this was one visit? Cafes and cheap hotels, sardines, baguettes, Camembert, red wine, Les Halles ..."

                                                                                                         *  *  *
​​ 
“… I had a map of the metro, the name of his nearest station, and an address.  My courage drained away in the hubbub of the Gare du Nord.  An unidentified hand felt my bum in a crowded carriage.  By the time I pushed my way out onto the platform at Jasmin, I was panicky and tearful.  What would I have done if Richard had not, at that moment, been walking down the steps towards me...?"
​

​“We collected his bag and took the metro, its terrors banished, to the Luxembourg Gardens.  I remember a narrow doorway, a daunting entrance hall, our nerves as we handed over our passports consigning us to separate rooms.  How different I imagine from your confident rule-breaking, Di!  Richard and I laughed over our innocence when we met again a year or two ago.  He remembered the hotel as a modest Hotel des Balcons, although over the years it seems to have become Le Grand Hotel des Balcons, and now has 4 stars...  "

​“What did we do?  I think we walked in the gardens, ate in cafés...”