Home again.

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So, Paris. Where better to celebrate my coming of age, or my retirement as some are wont to call it. This past few weeks I’ve been as resolute as a puff of smoke as I’ve made the transition from earning my pay to not doing so yet still it arrives. I’ve been all over the place in my heart and mind, but there could be no dithering when the price of airfares began to head due south. I had no choice but to presence myself in Paris. A small apartment I’m in just off Rue Daguerre and it has a grand piano and a red leather sofa. A late dinner at La Chope Daguerre - most restaurants don’t open on Mondays and this place wouldn’t have been my first choice but it was fine. My preferred place is the bistro Maison Péret - maybe tomorrow. But I’m only here for a week.