Festival of Fuchsia

Dahlings, it's been excitement overload.  I've been participating in the Festival of Fuchsia.  Dear FF, as you no doubt know, has been Over Here on a Garden Tour and to visit her sister in London.  I was thrilled to go to Paris with her and her sister for the weekend.

Dahlings, I felt I had died and gone to heaven as I climbed onto the Eurostar with FF, her sis and their matching Chanel handbags.

The trip was eventful, not least because a dastardly clipboard wielding pickpocket relieved me of my iPhone on the rue de Rivoli.

So no Paris pics from me.

But I did spend an entertaining hour in the Commissariat de police, tormenting the clerk with my French.  I can report that the police in France seem as preoccupied with snacks as the police here: important phone calls took place where the number of sugars in coffee was clarifed; beefy armed cops strolled in bearing cakes and biscuits; other police operatives helped themselves to buns and chocolate.  I innocently asked them if they watched the French cop drama Spiral (Engrenages) and had to dig my nails in my hand to prevent hysterical laughter when the clerk told me in all seriousness that Spiral was an accurate depiction of their professional life.  I must have missed the scenes involving hot chocolate and doughnuts...

Well FF may have shown me Chanel and Hermes, and her sister took us to the most lovely restaurants, but I feel I did my bit by showing them the inside of a police station....


FF gave me this lovely silk scarf from Honkers so I scarfed it up in a jaunty Parisian fashion.

On Sunday we strolled round the Place des Vosges and poked our noses into the Pavillon de la Reine Hotel, in a courtyard off the Place.  Mr B and I spent our first wedding anniversary there. Here's a visual from those days, one of us now has less hair and one of us can no longer fit into that skirt (really wish Mr B would stop wearing my clothes...)

And what did I bring home from Paris?

Sugar lumps.

Yes, I know, odd, but I adore the way the French do the small things in such a dinky, charming way and sugar lumps are one of them.


It was so lovely to catch up with dear FF, we talked nonstop on the Eurostar all the way there and all the way back.  I'd just like to apologise to the man in seat 67 (outward) and the man in seat 32 (return); sorry about your headaches but I do think trying to climb out of the train when it was hitting 150mph was a bit extreme...