Paris


I occasionally revisit my all but dead blog just to remind me about the sort of things I got up to in the last year. Well today something happened which I want to be sure to remember. Possibly I have mentioned in posts past my cutey young waiter, ie the lovely young fella with the smile of a young John Travolta, on whom I have a cougar crush in my local café.

Anyway, I’ve just spent the last 12 days in Ireland but today, when I returned to my café, not only did he and the other waiters give me a lovely warm welcome, but he gave me a presant!!! A copy of Le Petit Prince to help me learn French!! We’d discussed it before and he bought it for me! I am so beyond touched and charmed. The only thing is, I now have to read it!

….I’m going to stop complaining. As well as here I’ve been giving out about my illness on Facebook and one of my ‘Facebook Friends’, one of the ones by the way I only fecking ‘accepted’ out of politness becuase he is a writing peer and we had ‘mutual friends’ , told me to ‘oh shut up’!!! Can people do that? Is there not a code of ethics on Facebook which goes along the lines of ‘don’t be mean to people when they are sick!’. And anyway, feck him, if he is that sick of my malingering, why doesn’t he just ‘hide’ me,

I’ve hidden a good ninety percent of my ‘friends’ for various reasons. Some becuase I was bored of their posting accounts of what they were having for breakfast, others becuase they used the word ‘yummy’ just once too often and one becuase he kept posting these rather grey and blurry photographs which disturbed me and put me in a weird mood for the rest of the day. And one or two becuase they just seemed too bloody happy and made me look at my life with jaundiced eyes!

Anyway, now that I am sulking with the kids on Facebook, I am not going to tell them that I have decided to develope a crush on a 28 year old pop star! Well apparently he’s famous in France anyway, for what it’s worth! He’s a friend of a friend and he told me my blue coat was lovely.Of course he is going out with a suitably bottechelli -haired rock chick but I’m just going to stick his mental poster next to that of my 22 year old waiter on the mental walls of my brain and in a few years time write a philisophy book about them. Heh, it worked for Germaine Greer.

Anyway, I am going back to ‘poke’ the Facebook bully….in his cyber eye with a shitty stick!

I wonder has the cute waiter noticed I haven’t been in the last few days? I’ve had the flu so haven’t been going to my local cafe for my daily ‘cafe alongee avec un petit peu du lait (someday I’ll work out how type do the accents). The nice thing about Paris is that you can establish ‘local cafes and boulangeries’ pretty quickly and staff get to know you, at least if you have distinctively dreadful french and a red hat, both of which I do.

Anyway I have developed a crush on one of the waiters. He’s lovely. He always greets me with a big smile, a tad of chat (until about one and a half sentances in and my French breaks down) and in his crisp white shirt and smart black trousers, well he’s just a peach, in a French Prince William cleancut sort of way. He’s also about 22! Maybe younger! Certainly not much older. Which I am. I could be his mother if I came from a rather more dysfunctional and permissive background! But he’s just so cheery, fresh, happy and NEW looking. And that’s kind of new!

After all I have been spending alot of time lately with artists, and a more entertaining and funny bunch of ex-alcoholics, divorcees and depressives you couldn’t wish to meet, but compared to my shiny waiter in his shiny white shirt, they seem rather nicotined and life stained. I can suddenly see the appeal of younger women for men, it’s the hope some of their freshness might rub off.

Of course this being Paris, I should just have an affair with him. In fact if this was a French film, I the older jaundiced woman, channeling Isabelle Huppard, would just lure him into my web. Then I’d use him and abuse him in all sorts of sordid and louche ways, break his heart (becuase of course he’d fall madly in love/lust with me) then cast him aside with that innocent light in his eye extinguished and replaced by …’knowingness’.

Unfortunatly, as thirty somethings go, I fear I am a bit behind on the ‘knowingness’ front myself and the most sordid activities in my web involve illegally down loading ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ ,eating too much chocolate rice and avoiding writing. In fact he would probably scrabble quickly out of my writers web and into a proper pensional job for fear of ending up in a similar state of retarded adolesence in his late thirties.

As it is, he probably just views me as the slightly eccentric foreign woman who sits at the counter..watching him! Oh sweet Christ, I’m less Isabelle Hubbard then Dirk Bogarde in ‘Death in Venice’, complete with smudged makeup! Time to change cafes.

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