Paris, Day 11

Well, the party is over - at least for the moment.  Virginia is back in school three afternoons a week and I am diligently preparing my U3A lectures on "The Winning of the American West."  Mornings are taken up with the usual mundane tasks (as if any task could ever be mundane in Paris).

We did have an interesting experience with the shopping this morning.  We wanted some plain white bread so, bought a loaf.  This evening, like a couple of school-kids, we decided in the latter hours of the evening to have some toast with Vegemite.  For the uninitiated, those who do not know what Vegemite is, click here. When we took the bread out to toast, we discovered, on opening the package, that it was crustless.  Now to some that may be no news but to us, provincials from the Antipodes, it was "passing strange."  If you don't have crust, how does the bread hold together?  How do you assure that children will have curly hair?  Besides we like crusts and there weren't any.

Yum...

Being put up a level at the Alliance has been a whole new experience for Virginia.  She has found that many of the fellow students in her class are professionals, unlike the last time she studied there when they were mostly kids doing a gap year.  These are people who already, in many cases, speak excellent French and she is very excited although she feels as if she will have to struggle and work hard to keep up her end in the class.  The class consists of two Vietnamese nuns, two very bright students from Italy, two Americans from New York, one of whom is a woman of Virginia's age group, the other a young male who spoke excellent French but seemed to be bored with the entire process.  There were several Chinese students, two students from Brazil, one of whom appeared to be a very senion Civil Servant.

As usual in such programmes, the class lasted for three hours with one eight minute toilet break.  This is not for the faint of heart or weak of bladder.  Any hope of a cup of coffee or a glass of wine was quickly dashed.  However after class the local watering hole filled quickly with students gasping for liquid refreshment.

After doing a couple of hours work on my own lectures, I decided to take a stroll.  As I walked down rue Le Pic I found myself wondering what in the world could have persuaded Virginia to torture herself this way.  I continued to contemplate this question as I sat in the Place du Tertre with a lovely Kir in front of me.

I suppose guilt got the better of me so  I dashed home to cook her favourite dinner, lamb in some form.  In this case chops.  Then as she began her homework I turned to a good book.