I'm hurt, dear reader. Really. I've got a big gash on my leg - from changing a lightbulb. Yes, I know, hard to believe isn't it? DON'T ASK ME WHY I chose to stand on a collapsible chair to do this relatively mundane task. Because, of course, that's just what it did, bringing me down with it. And pulling the doors off the sink unit in the process. Leaving me lying on the floor, surrounded by cat food, splintered wood and cupboard doors with one leg still trapped in the chair that was now firmly wedged between the two kitchen cupboards. I felt like I'd stepped into "Stalingrad" (though with slightly less snow and mud). For one - mad - moment, I thought I might have to try and amputate my trapped foot using my prized Japanese kitchen knife. Then I realised that if I wrenched the other door from its hinges, I would in fact be able to free the chair and thus save my foot. Phew. High drama indeed for a Sunday. I wouldn't be surprised if someone made a movie about it. And the day had gone so well up to that point. Dee-lish brunch + pancakes with Signor G. and then a wander round this fine, if small, exhibition at the Swedish Cultural Centre. The SCC is housed in a beautiful hôtel particulier a mere stone's throw from Rhino75 Towers and is - at the moment - home to this rather fine glass owl, too. If all goes to plan, I shall be spending a lot more time there (but more about that another time...) All in all, a fine afternoon for wandering round aimlessly in the Paris winter sunshine and sipping coffee on a terrace. Which is exactly what we did. Completely bonkers queue to look at the re-hung permanent collection at the Pompidou Centre today, BTW. Whatever.
Showing posts with label coffee. Show all posts
Showing posts with label coffee. Show all posts
Sunday, February 04, 2007
D.I.Y.
I'm hurt, dear reader. Really. I've got a big gash on my leg - from changing a lightbulb. Yes, I know, hard to believe isn't it? DON'T ASK ME WHY I chose to stand on a collapsible chair to do this relatively mundane task. Because, of course, that's just what it did, bringing me down with it. And pulling the doors off the sink unit in the process. Leaving me lying on the floor, surrounded by cat food, splintered wood and cupboard doors with one leg still trapped in the chair that was now firmly wedged between the two kitchen cupboards. I felt like I'd stepped into "Stalingrad" (though with slightly less snow and mud). For one - mad - moment, I thought I might have to try and amputate my trapped foot using my prized Japanese kitchen knife. Then I realised that if I wrenched the other door from its hinges, I would in fact be able to free the chair and thus save my foot. Phew. High drama indeed for a Sunday. I wouldn't be surprised if someone made a movie about it. And the day had gone so well up to that point. Dee-lish brunch + pancakes with Signor G. and then a wander round this fine, if small, exhibition at the Swedish Cultural Centre. The SCC is housed in a beautiful hôtel particulier a mere stone's throw from Rhino75 Towers and is - at the moment - home to this rather fine glass owl, too. If all goes to plan, I shall be spending a lot more time there (but more about that another time...) All in all, a fine afternoon for wandering round aimlessly in the Paris winter sunshine and sipping coffee on a terrace. Which is exactly what we did. Completely bonkers queue to look at the re-hung permanent collection at the Pompidou Centre today, BTW. Whatever.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Gift Horse
Dontcha just hate Christmas shopping? I swear if one more person barges into me with their bags, I'll go postal. And it's not just the present buying. Yesterday I spent 35 minutes (35 - count 'em), queuing for these blasted things. Yes, yes, my own fault, but He-Who-Shall-No- Longer-Be-Named-On -This-Blog (HWSNLBNOTB) had told me they'd brought out some **NEW** flavours for Christmas, including an apple and cinammon one that, frankly, has a direct line to the Nordic gene in my DNA soup. Dee-lish, though probably NOT worth a 35-minute wait. But it's not all bad. I was coming up the escalator in Lafayette Maison - my second home - when all of a sudden the guy in front of me turned round and asked me what I'd like for Christmas - "within reason, of course". Totally threw me. I would love to tell you that I shot back with some witty rejoinder, but no. I blushed and stammered, "ooh, ooh" and when he insisted, I went all stiff and polite (like a true Englishman) and said "I have everything I need, thank you." What a dork. Me, I mean. Mind you, though obviously generous (always a nice trait so +10 points), he wasn't that hot (-5, shame), and I suspect he's been drinking (par for the course). I don't know how I do it but I am a Class A nutter magnet - I should bottle it.
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