On Sunday we leave for Paris again
If this was my mode of transport I would be one happy bunny but we are driving down
via Ross on Wye which is nearly in Wales and Hampstead, London to deliver pieces of Ghost Furniture to lovely customers. Take that route in and think of all the road works we will encounter on the way.
Crossing the channel is the easiest part - just drive onto the train and let it do all the hard work
Due to the fact that our daughter Charlotte now lives in the countryside outside Paris the drive is a dream, driving down those country roads lined with the trees that Napoleon had planted to keep the sun off his soldiers whilst they were marching - how thoughtful and
passing through medieval villages that take your breath away.
At the end of the long journey is our baby ready and willing
to feed you until you burst.
I can look forward to fresh French bread everyday, she lives opposite a Miller who bakes bread to die for.
On Wednesday I am off to Chatou to meet up with my gorgeous friend Tara, she of Paris Parfait, to gossip, put the world to rights (she is much better at that than me) and do
The Ham Fair or as the French call it - Foire Nationale à la Brocante et Aux Jambons - too much of a mouth full for me. Speaking of mouth fulls the food there is to die for not speaking of the 500 antique stalls
On Thursday our friends, Annie and Gavin, are joining us but they are flying in and out (lucky sods). Neither have been to Paris before so we are their guides. Where do we start?
I think a trip down The Seine gives a good overview (someone should tell that driver he is going the wrong way) and after that it's just a case of following your nose. My nose always leads me to a Bistro where I can sit at a pavement table and people watch.
On Sunday there is a 5 kilometre long Brocante in Torcy, a town close to Charlotte's village. Seventh Heaven, Cloud Nine, Eutopia and all the other places that aren't coming to mind at this time of the morning.
I wonder if I will be as lucky as this bloke who hit the headlines today with his Anglo Saxon Find in Staffordshire, I doubt it.
It's Paris Fashion Week when we are there so I can expect the streets to be full of French Chic, you know the sort of people that make you go - HOW ON EARTH DOES SHE LOOK THAT GOOD - when I am staggering about with aching feet even though I insist on wearing flats to get around.
Not for me those amazing but crippling shoes the French women manage to walk around in.
I will, of course, have my trusty Moleskine Reporter's Notebook and my laptop with me and will be reporting back on every stage of my journey so I wish you 'au revoir' (translated that is literally 'till the seeing again.') I by the way speak no French, I gave birth to my own translator.