Il pleut.

I am sat at breakfast, the most important meal of the day. Today we are going to the happiest place on Earth but I’ll write about that tomorrow.

Yesterday we made it to the top of the Eiffel Tower, this involved an hour long walk in the rain where we just laughed at the mad Parisian drivers and tried to spot groups of tourists. When we got to the famous tower only one of the lifts was open so we joined the ever increasing queue. About half an hour later we realised that we could walk up the other side and that there was no queue for the privilege so that’s what we did, seven hundredish steps and then a lift to the summit. I tried to pretend I was perfectly fine with the ever diminishing blocks of girder around us as we breached the heavy cloud and fog and stopped. It was beautiful but not the kind of height I like hanging about at.

We then got some lunch and headed on to Père Lechaise, resting place of Jim Morrison, Oscar Wilde and Edith Piaf. It’s one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever visited and Kate shared that sentiment which I was quite pleased about because it’s hard to explain a penchant for hanging around graveyards. Once we had wished them all well we headed out to the Latin Quarter and found a little Greek restaurant that had a really good menu. It turns out that it doesn’t matter how many times you offer Kate your snails she isn’t going to partake. It’s possibly the only time I’ve ever seen her turn down food.

We then went to Shakespeare & Co where I found the music section and got lost and wrapped up for a while. Kate found a brilliant book on Plath that she purchased and then we walked round Notre Dame and headed back to the hotel. It’s incredible how tired you can feel after a day of walking and admiring.

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