Some point early November my dad decided to book tickets for me, my mum and him to take a quick dash across the pond to Paris for the day. About two weeks after the tickets were booked the attacks in Paris happened and of course we were saddened and kind of dissuaded to go. But if everyone thought like this then the city would eventually become isolated and neglected. So last week Tuesday we took a trip to Paris for the day. Now seeing as I was actually in Birmingham from the Friday and got in my house at about 9pm on Monday, after spending two hours on the phone with my Grandma, I didn’t actually sleep for the few hours that I had between getting home and having to wake up to call a cab.
3am – wake up (had I actually been asleep)
Cab ordered? Yep. Throw in any essentials into the Duffer backpack. Jump in
the shower. Put together a half-decent “I need to stay warm, look presentable
but I’m tired as hell” outfit. None of which was easy when I had only had
about seven hours sleep Sunday night.
4am- we need to leave like right now
Our Eurostar tickets said we need to check in at least 30 mins before the
train depart. And the cab driver has called to say that he is outside. King’s Cross
St. Pancras here we come – and yes, I finally found the Disney tree!
9am – Bonjour!
I don’t actually know what time we got to Paris but I think with the time
zone difference I think I remember seeing 9am on my phone screen (after the
time had changed). This is what happened after:
I’ve never been one for ‘about me’ pages so let's keep it short and sweet: I'm 25 (so I guess you could assume I'm going through a quarter-life crisis), London-based, love food, oh, and partial to a rum-based drink... or just the rum tbh.