City Of Lights
I am in Paris, my favorite city, for work. It is an easy trip, too, now that the Eurostar finally high-speed in France and England where it once dragged along at local rates. From St Pancras, it is 2 hours and twenty minutes or the perfect time to catch up on emails &c. Photo by Arnaud Frich, la suite sur www.arnaudfrichphoto.com.
I read that, on Christmas Day, the typical British family has its first fight before 10AM (this from a survey of 2,000 reported in the Daily Mirror). The first drink by noon. Apparently the ‘festive season’ considered the most stressful time of year with house guests and cooking and claustrophobia and all that. Good to know we are no different from anyone else. What is needed: American football. NFL or college, who cares? The holidays about indulgence and what can be more American than the play-offs played in some Godforsaken second-tier city in an ancient bowl while it snows or sleets? Now that is a game to watch and I don't care who the teams are. Or the Rose Bowl, Cotton Bowl, any bowl on New Year's day? The perfect cure-all for morning-after.
Eitan: “Of course.”
Madeleine: “Don’t be silly, Dad.”
Me: “Well, what do you want him to bring you?”
Eitan: “I want him to bring me a Lego Republic Attack Gun Ship and Yoda, Mace Windu and Anakin lego figures."
Me: “Do you want anything from Paris?”
Eitan: A DS. Or at least a game boy.”
Madeleine: “Do you remember that time last year when we saw on TV where Santa lives?
Me:
Madeleine: “I think it was Greece.”
Sonnet: “It is a bit hot there for Santa, I should think.”
Madeleine: “Maybe it's Greenland. Oh, I know - Finland!”
