The Dead Zone

I can tell from the eerie silence in the streets and the plummeting stats on my little internet pitch that we are now mid-August, in the dead zone. Even Q. Plage ended today, under stormy skies and lashing rain. There is nothing more.

So it's time for the smug little holiday post:

Here in the région Parisienne, I can assure you that even the dog turds have taken a holiday. I haven't seen one for weeks (true, I haven't). The post office workers are practically wearing Hawaian shirts - there was only me in the queue today. I had a choice of three eager faces waiting to serve me, so I chose the most miserable looking one. It was a tough decision to make, but all in a day's work for someone not on holiday.

There are no white children left in the parks, and no nounous. What else...

It's amazing how few people have discovered this little corner of paradise, tucked away between the office blocks. The pavements are all so smooth now that the roadworks have finished, just waiting for the rentrée crowds.

Seriously. Although I would like again to thank my former employers from the bottom of my heart for sacking me and paying dearly for the privilege, I confess that the camping equipment I bought with the lolly is not going to be used this year. Packing up a flat with two small children takes approximately five times longer than the worst-case scenario.

Thank god the weather's been so crap. And promises to be for the next few days.

We sail on 16th August. Of which more later.

Happy holidays everyone!