These last few days, May Lyn, who has lived in Paris far too long, has been entertaining me with her vitriolic lashings of this country and its people.
In the meantime, I have been assiduously avoiding the steaming piles of dogshit on the ground and feeling somewhat smug about it.
Yesterday, however, Yannick pointed out that it had rained and there was now no avoiding it. Dogshit was now everywhere and definitely on our shoes, being tracked into the studio and absorbed through our permeable skins, into the core of our beings. Today I thought I smelled dogshit everywhere and all the time. On people's breath, in hallways, on plates...
Nous sommes, alors, tous dans la merde de la France.
Now, I had been going to end this blog on a cheerful note about wine and osteopaths, because I AM a positive thinker if nothing else. But a few hours earlier, I saw, for the first time, the programme of Les Antipodes and on the page that talks about me (meet Lee Su-Feh), there is a picture of a naked Ziyian Kwan.
Apparently, Asian women are interchangeable over here.