Sunday Slackness

One of my favourite procrastination techniques is to spin the roulette wheel of memory and, wherever the ball lands, google search it. So, today it was Paris.

I lived in Paris for a about four months when I was 15, and I have some very fond memories of my time there. First, I perused the vividly detailed google sattelite images of Paris. I found our old flat, the street where we bought our groceries and then, almost without thinking, I found myself following the route of the No. 92 bus towards Place Montparnasse. It's a journey I made almost everyday after school - with a Graham Greene novel under my arm - to my favourite cafe, Le Chien qui Fume.







After a bit of googling, I found a favourable mention of LCQF, from someone practiced in the art of flânerie, no less:

I washed up on the shady terrace of the café Le Chien Qui Fume. Even without a monumental view, I had 'la vie est belle' for a while. An altogether good café.

And I also found a more detailed review:

Dans un cadre hérité du début du siècle, le chien qui fume rallie une clientèle de quartier. Ses petites tables en bois lui donnent un air très cosy
-snip-
En fin de journée la terrasse extérieure est baignée de soleil. Une aubaine pour les autochtones comme pour les passants.

Shoddy translation:
In a space with a turn of the century feel, Le Chien qui Fume attracts a local clientele. It's small tables give it a very cozy atmosphere. -snip- In the afternoon the the outdoor seating is bathed in sunlight, which is delightful for both the regulars at the cafe and the passers-by.

Well, its a fresh and sunny autumn day here in Chuckton. And on that note, I think it's time to try and whip up something that resembles a cafe noisette and dig out my copy of The Tenth Man.

Á plus tard mes amis,

- Mr. Ed