… arrange a weekend’s sightseeing in Paris on the weekend that one of the main metro lines through the tourist attractions of Paris is closed

Consequently 13.8 kilometres and 21798 paces on the fitbit tells its own story of what I’ve been up to today.

But starting as I mean to go on, having lived on my own for so long I forget about how different other people are from how I behave. I was up, showered, shaved, had a coffee and typed out my notes from the dictaphone and still had to sit around on a sofa for 20 minutes.

Of course, that’s no reflection on anyone else. It’s a reflection of how my life has changed over the last 30 years (with a couple of exceptions here and there) and how I’m simply accustomed for doing” for myself and not for other people.

Whether or not it’s a bad habit remains to be seen. You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, particularly one as old as me, and as I don’t think that I’ll ever be having company on a permanent basis again so I don’t really want to change. But it’s symbolic, I suppose, of how my life has evolved.

Just now I mentioned the dictaphone. There were indeed some entries on there, but nothing like as many as I thought. Have I been dictating into my hand again, or have I been dreaming that I’ve been dictating? Or am I simply imagining it?

Anyway I was doing something on a zodiac last night – I can’t remember what it was – but it was to do with films and so on that I’d made, someone from a place where I’d used to work had rung up and asked to speak to someone and then put me through to probably TOTGA I reckon who was still at school but was out working at a cinema in the afternoon. They wanted to get in touch with me so I rang them back the next morning.

At some time during the night my friend from Munich breezed in and asked “where is she?” … “where is who?” – ed … and then breezed out again before I could give him an answer which I thought was strange.

Eventually we were ready and we hit the streets. Having seen how much the breakfast costs in this hotel and how little choice there was for those on a restricted diet, we headed off down the hill to a little café where they did a very simple but adequate breakfast for a much more democratic price.

Then we hit the metro and ended up running up against the buffers down there. The end result was that instead of starting at the Bastille and going to the Eiffel Tower, we did the route in reverse and on foot.

We started off at the Trocadero where there is the Museum of Dance.

And we were entertained by a troupe of dancers on the steps that lead down to the river. They were doing some kind of mime act that had gone way over my head, but then again dance isn’t my thing.

Years of taking little sisters to dancing class has though enabled me to understand what’s happening and I can still vaguely remember the five positions of your hands and feet in ballet but anything after that is way beyond my comprehension.

What is much more my style of thing is watching the barges go past on the river.

The other week we saw plenty of them in and around Cologne and one day I’ll write up my notes about the trip but at the moment it’s this one here that’s attracted my attention.

Although her name is clearly indicated I was trying to identify her flag or other insignia, without any success at all. But Bayard is the name of a mythical horse in medieval French literature so it’s likely that the barge has received its name in that respect.

It’s not likely to be named after the American general who gave his name to a fort in New Mexico.

Apart from the flotilla of pleasure boats there wasn’t anything else of interest going on down on the water although I’m always hypnotised by the smell.

Eventually I managed to pull myself away and we went for a wander around by the Eiffel Tower. Not underneath it as it’s all fenced off these days and there are all kinds of security checkpoints to pass.

Instead, the whiff of a crepe stand had caught someone’s attention so we headed off there for a snack. Not for me of course. Milk and eggs don’t feature anywhere on my diet. I took a couple of photographs for posterity – not mine, of course. My immortality is assured by you lot.

We walked back through the Trocadero and then up the Avenue Kleber to the Arc de Triomphe.

There were the usual crowds loitering around as you might expect where there’s a tourist attraction. Normally I try to steer clear of these places but when you are in company, you have to bend to the will of others.

We had the choice of going over there to stand underneath it and see the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier but instead we decided upon a different plan and headed off up the Champs Elysees.

Regular readers of this rubbish will recall that one thing that features quite prominently on these pages is photographs of people taking photographs.

In Paris you are rather spoilt for choice in that respect, especially in the axe touristique but this one of people doing just that in the Champs Elysees was a photo that was crying out to be taken, and I’ll probably end up paying the penalty for it at some point later in the proceedings.

And from here we went off for another coffee. It’s a long and dusty road down here and the opportunity to sit down, take the weight off your feet and relax is something else not to be missed.

Down at the bottom end of the Champs Elysees is the Tuileries.

This site was originally marshland and the home of various small craftsmen who made roofing times but was gradually bought up by the ruling monarchs of France as the size and importance of the Louvre increased.

It’s now an impressive public garden with ponds and fountains and the like and anyone who is anybody will come here to hire a folding chair and to relax – including us of course, because we are quite important in our own way, but we were just passing through

Down at the far end right across from the Louvre is the Arc de Triomphe du Carrousel.

This was built to celebrate Napoleon’s victory at the Battle of Austerlitz in 1805 and is said to be a replica of the Arch of Septimus Severius in Rome, built to celebrate the victory of himself and his sons over the Parthians at the end of the second century.

In this case I’ll have to take their word of that because I can’t remember all that much of my visit to Rome. I was too busy helping Marianne on her pilgrimage around the Seven Holy Churches of the city in the Holy Year of whenever it was.

The Pope said that those who accomplished the pilgrimage would receive absolution for their sins and Marianne was quite keen on that idea. But as I visited the churches too, I suppose that that means that I have received absolution too.

Who’d have thought it?

We crossed the road from here and found ourselve< face-to-face with the Louvre.

It’s been about 30 years since I last came here so as we’d all been inside at one time or another and the admission charge isn’t for the faint-hearted we decided to give it a miss.

Instead we wandered off outside the palace grounds towards the river and set our course for the Ile de la Cité and Notre Dame. It’s been a while since I was last here and I was keen to see how things had developed.

As we crossed over the bridge on our way to the island I noticed another boat disappearing off into the horizon.

It was actually a cruise boat that i had seen as we were walking down. And it was crowded with tourists too. They must be doing a roaring trade on the river.

There was also a zodiac going past, as I noticed shortly afterwards. That had about half a dozen people on board and that’s much more like my idea of travelling on a river like this to see the sights.

That’s something else that I’ll have to investigate.

You’ll have noticed the crowds of people on the edge of the river just here.

Although you can’t see anything, there was actually a jazz band – a fanfare – performing there and they had drawn quite a crowd.

As we had passed by their spec I had leant over the wall and tried to take a photo of them but it didn’t work unfortunately.

This one is no better because you can’t actually see anything. The standard lens on the NIKON 1 J5 isn’t up to this kind of thing.

The one of the Eiffel Tower isn’t any better either and for the same reason.

However I had to take it because everywhere where we went this morning in the vicinity of the tower we had the sun in our eyes and a photo wouldn’t have worked out.

Once on the island we walked along the river for a while past the Orfevres and I’m glad that they didn’t know that I was coming because that’s the headquarters of the Paris police.

When I’m in that kind of vicinity I usually try to keep a low profile. “Old sins cast long shadows”.

We eventually arrived at the Cathédral de Notre Dame.

And a sorry, sad sight it looked too. One of the finest examples of Gothic art known to mankind, the fire in April 2019 destroyed it and regardless of what anyone says, the craftsmanship simply isn’t there these days to rebuild it in the original fashion and I fear that there will be quite a few corners cut.

They are talking about having it restored and open for visits and worship in 2024 but I wonder what kind of optimistic target that might be

We had another closer look at it and decided that we would go round and approach it from the rear to see what was going on there.

But we were side-tracked first of all by a souvenir shop and then by a café where a waiter took the mickey out of a word that I used that is an Auvergnat dialect word not used in Paris.

That’s something about which I’ve heard so many times from various people but it’s the first time that I’ve ever experienced it

There was more souvenir shopping to be done so that involved a trip on a functioning metro line.

We came up for air at the “Opera” metro station by the Academie Nationale De Musique building.

From there we pushed on to the retail outlet at the Hard Rock Cafe to buy a few things and then headed back on the metro to the hotel.

Now being washed, showered and changed (while I did some work on the computer) we headed off for a meal at the Indian restaurant that I’d seen earlier. And my vegetable curry with rice and naam bread was delicious. I’ll remember that place again.

Just down the road from there is the Moulin Rouge which was all lit up for the evening so I took a photo and then wandered home.

On the way back I had an encounter with one of the resident street drunks and after we had exchanged a few words he asked me “are you Belgian”?

It seems that I’ve retained my Belgiam accent from the 15 years that I lived there, as well as the Auvergnat words from my sejour there as well. I must be becoming really cosmopolitan these days.

So now that I’ve written up my notes I’ll see how the rest of the evening develops.

The night is young and who knows what the passage of time will bring?

… not exactly sitting in a rainbow but sitting in a rather posh hotel just off the Place Clichy in Paris a mere cockstride from the Moulin Rouge.

And I use the word “we” because I am not alone, and I’m not talking about Strawberry Moose either.

With having had the news that they are going to discuss my heart issues on Thursday when I’m at hospital, one of my friends has rushed to be by my bedside for a long weekend to give me some moral support ready for the (af)fray.

Although whether “moral” is the correct word to be using whenever I’m involved in anything is another consideration completely.

As for who it is, well, let’s just say that it’s someone who features quite regularly in these pages, in a virtual way of course and almost always when I’m on my nocturnal rambles. The rest, you can figure out for yourselves.

These people who figure in my nocturnal rambles by the way – they are real people just in case you are in any doubt. If they are fictitious or imaginary, I say so.

And so how did I prepare for this monumental event?

Well, by going to bed nice and early, and then not being able to sleep a single wink.

And I really do mean that as well. I was lying in bed for 8 hours until the alarm went off at 06:00, watching every hour, every minute, every second tick by. Nevertheless, when the alarm went off at 06:00 I leapt from my bed with alacrity – and you thought that I was on my own there as well, didn’t you?

First task was to back up the files from yesterday onto the little memory stick that I carry with me so that I can back up the portable computer. Then I had butties to make for the journey and with the bread that was left over I had a thick slice of toast with a strong coffee. I have to keep going somehow.

Surprisingly, I had a shower and a clean-up too. I need to look my best.

Having given the apartment the once-over with the bleach I headed off out with my suitcase to head to the railway station.

And by the looks of things I was the only person out there this morning. Most of the fishing boats were tied up at the pontoon there.

No Channel Island ferries though. I would have expected the back by now ready to do sea trials and all of that kind of thing before setting off with fare-paying passengers. After all, they have modified the pontoons at the ferry terminal since they last set out and they are leaving it rather late to check that they are suitable.

There was one trawler at least out at sea working through the night. As I watched, she came back into port.

As to her identity, I do recognise her but I can’t put a name to her. I was far too busy looking over at the ferry terminal because that was rather busy this morning.

Over there I can see the two Joly France ferries and also Chausiaise, the little freighter that runs out to the Ile de Chausey. It looks as if they are expecting to have a busy day today. There have certainly been plenty of people around the town. I must have tripped over hundreds of them.

My route down the hill into town takes me past the ruined houses that were burnt out in the fire.

The temporary roofing job has been finished now by the looks of things and you can see what they have done to make the properties waterproof while discussions about liability and repair continue.

But what the outcome will be is anyone’s guess. I can’t see the middle one – the worst of the three – ever being repaired.

Once more, I didn’t really feel like it. The hike up the hill is slowly killing me but I’m resisting all temptation to take the bus. I have to keep on in there fighting it out

When I eventually arrived at the station I had to wait for a while before my train came in. At least it was a nice morning for a change.

As usual it was one of the Gec Alstom Regiolis trainsets. Well, two trainsets actually and there weren’t all that many people on board so we could all spread out.

However it was fairly crowded by the time that we arrived in Paris but even so, I managed to avoid having company and was thus able to do quite a bit that I would otherwise never have done.

My trainset was actually the one farthest away from the head of the platform at Granville so it was the one nearest the head of the platform in Paris.

That gave me an opportunity to photograph it before I headed off out of the station and down the road on my way to the entrance to the Metro in the Rue de Départ.

Before joining my train I picked up another block of tickets and some tickets for the airport too. And then when I arrived at the Gare du Nord i legged down through the labyrinth underneath as far as the Metro line 2 where I was going to pick up another train going west

This is a photo that I couldn’t resist taking while I was waiting for my next train.

If they really are having a grillade no-stop then in the words of the old song “no one knows what goes on behind closed doors”

Three stations down the line I alighted from my train and headed off on foot for my hotel which, surprisingly, is not too far from the Moulin Rouge (like about 200 yards).

My room was (surprisingly) available so I was checked straight in. And I’ll tell you something for nothing – and that is that I’ve not stayed in too many posher dumps than this. I’m afraid to take off my boots in here.

But I didn’t stay long because I had other fish to fry, like back to the Gare du Nord and then out to the airport where I arrived considerably earlier than intended so I had a long wait. But what’s a long wait when you have decent music to listen to?

Eventually my partner in crime turned up and we fought our way back through the crowds to the hotel.

Later o we went across the road to the Lebanese Restaurant and had a delicious tea. And the chat about old times started – after all, it has been years since we last met in person – but it seemed that current topics of the day were more … well … topical I suppose.

But not to worry – there’s a whole weekend yet to fill in the gaps in our lives.

But I’ll tell you something for nothing. And that is that as I have said before … “and on many occasions too” – ed … I don’t have too many friends but those I have are the best in the world.

Where else would you find someone who would leap onto an aeroplane and come to hold your hand for a few days at moments of crisis like this? You don’t get many of them to the Pound, I’ll tell you that!