Addendum to the previous post
A big thank you to those of you kind enough to have left comments on the last post. It was written when jetlagged after navigating two flights with an infant, so it probably wasn’t the most coherent (no change there) and also, perhaps, lacked a little clarity. I am not, as some of you (understandably) read that last post, returning permanently to the UK; I’m just visiting for a friend’s wedding.
Blogs like this rarely seem to get narrative closure, instead they usually fall into neglectful disrepair, and though it’d be nice to give this blog closure when the time comes, that time isn’t now. You may be relieved to know that I’ve at least held-off from the land of the potato faced men for a little longer by heading over to Paris. It was a choice (a genuine choice) between Paris and Hartlepool. Somehow, despite the lack of mushy peas, Paris won. Although the potato-faced men have followed me here, too. It seems Woody Allen lied with Midnight In Paris. I guess as far as a Woody Allen betrayal goes I’m getting off lightly, but wandering the tourist quarters at midnight isn’t the magical experience his film led me to belive. All I’ve seen so far are sad, middle-aged, potato-faced, British couples slinking off to their hotel rooms to have their sad, middle-aged, potato-faced, British sex.
For those who don’t mind my photography efforts, here’s some initial shots taken with the phone (haven’t had a chance to upload the actual camera). Unfortunately, no sexy hotel room shots of the potato men; and if this blog can’t supply that, then really just what is the point of it?