The early hours of Friday morning came and I knew I was in trouble. Lungs protesting, aches everywhere, sweats. Oh dear. By Friday night a migraine decided to join in the fun. So several days chez mois in bed with bronchitis.
I am sooo cross. Why could it not have waited until I got home. Perhaps too much walking, too much getting chilled, too much fun. In this life you always have to pay.
So the Sunday evening concert in Sainte Chapelle had to be abandoned. I checked on-line and there is no heating of any kind therein, so it just seemed silly to go. And the two literary Readings. And my tutorial. Pout.
I ventured out to the Pharmacie on Sunday looking like the newly resurrected and bought some throat pastilles. She was most solicitious and asked whether I had a temperature or fever, and I was able to reply no. But I did notice that it was now really cold, and all the women wore scarves, woolly hats, boots and gloves. What happens in Paris, is there a sudden newsflash to fashionistes, ‘this weekend the winter clothes go on’? I have noticed this in the past.
Also the Christmas trees are now out, dads were walking home carrying them accompanied by exited kids and wreathes etc. are in all the flower shops. All of a sudden. There is some rule somewhere clearly.
OK back to the sofa, the duvet and some TV.