As Paris becomes routine, weeks fly by incessantly,
Not that they’re monotonous-but they’re nondescript to me.
It takes someone or something special to affect my week,
Otherwise it’s just another seven days in the capital of chic.
But lucky as I am I keep busy and entertained,
Nights out til 5 am leave me feeling pretty drained.
But an altogether different kind of night was enjoyed,
When my mother came to see one of her three favourite boys.
It was just a flying visit but it was just enough for me,
It was exactly what I needed to see some family.
We only had an evening but we made the best of it,
We watched the Eiffel tower dazzle, which really was the shit !
Every hour on the hour the Eiffel tower sparkles,
Pissheads probably think they’ve lost some, if not all, their marbles
But for ten minutes every hour, when the sky grows black,
The famous rusty sculpture pulls a rabbit from its hat.
A classy little trick that really hits the mark,
The massive ugly structure looks stunning in the dark
Now that last line might work well when used about the Eifel Tower
But i’ve tried it on a bird and my slapped cheek was raw for hours !
Mum and I shared a tasty meal that was typically French
The food was matched only by the waitress- a tasty bit of wench.
In the absence of my mother my diet’s pretty lame,
My enthusiasm lacking, my imagination tame.
Lucky for me the girls I know only live for food
It is their ‘raison d’être’ and i’ve been rather shrewd
I get round Amy’s for tea time and stuff my gut with munch
I get round hers for lunch time, breakfast and Sunday brunch.
We’ve eaten salmon and lasagne- the latter made from scratch
Plenty of fruit & veg mean scurvy’s something I won’t catch.
Musically lots to report on, including a new venue,
In a rough area of Paris that’s dangerous but attractive too !
At the familiar Showcase I saw some average bands
The dance floor was full of all their rowdy fans,
We saw a band from Paris-they covered ‘Cameo’
Who’s quality tune ‘word up’ should have been left alone.
But nevertheless the ‘Jukebox Club’ didn’t do too bad
They were better than ‘The Devices’ who used a cymbal and drum pad,
The American duo came on stage and simply shouted ‘merde’
Confirming my belief Americans should not be seen nor heard.
The night grew old, the hours passed and I went home to bed,
Knowing that my music hopes would be fulfilled next week instead.
The following week was M.A.N.D.Y. at the Elysée Montmartre
The line-up was pretty special the dress code wasn’t smart
The Presets had the energy, but the crowd had no response
The electro pair seemed about as popular as your average nonse !
Not because they were no good, they were rather accomplished
But due to the height of the ceiling the sound quality diminished
I danced on regardless until my feet felt really sore,
Then I got a second wind and I pounded them some more.
All of this nocturnal activity hasn’t helped my bank
My money has all gone there’s nothing left to spank.
I’m back to being skint, brassic and really tight,
I can’t give up a single cent from morning through til night.
The bank is such a nightmare- i’ve had to change my branch,
Since different regions have different rules throughout the whole of France.
So a branch in Paris is completely seperate from that in Nice,
And I have to pay to set-up a new account- feels like i’m being fleeced!
But perhaps my money situation will change now that I get CAF
A timely bit of pocket money that helps me rent my gaff.
It’s a bit like claiming benefit-for those who live in France,
I’m not sure how much it is but i’m praying silver will cross my palm.
But how much will they give me to subsidise my little flat?
50 euros a month? It can’t be much more than that?
Talking of the legobox it did receive a little visit
Rory’s first words on arriving were simply, ‘is that it’?
But I won’t get upset, the place is enough for me,
For it allows me to carry adventuring in gay Paree!
Thursday, 27 March 2008
Tuesday, 18 March 2008
Week ? Losing track of time
I’m struggling to keep up, is this early ? Is this late ?
Time refuses to stand still, I can’t ask it to wait!
I have no Bernard’s watch, to halt time in its path,
And i’m no Hermione Granger who bends time to make a class
So as it is, I can’t keep track, time floats by non-stop,
Everytime I see the date I get a nasty shock.
How is it March already? I’ve only just arrived!
Before I know it, i’ll be finished saying my goodbyes.
Perhaps it’s because I only work four days of the week,
But still I barely have time to catch up on my sleep.
However looking back on things I don’t feel i’ve achieved that much,
In fact i’d go as far to say i’ve not done anything as such.
Unless you count the museums, in which case i’ve done alot
The first Sunday of March I barely even stopped.
I took in four museums and three quarters were sublime,
So much so that I can’t wait to return another time.
The Pompidou’s amazing, full of fascinating art,
I strolled around as best I could, pretending to be smart,
Thank God I had a guide to explain some things to me
Otherwise i’d look at half of it quite dismissively.
Auguste Rodin, the sculptor, had crafted some bad ass things,
Most of the works in his museum I found overwhelming.
‘The Gates of Hell’,‘The Thinker’ as well as his ‘The Kiss’
You must see these badboys when you next visit Paris.
The final treat was Monet and his famous Waterlillies,
I didn’t think i’d be impressed, I thought this was just for sissies,
But how wrong was I? Well, very wrong indeed!
The enormous life-like paintings really struck a chord with me.
But where there’s Yin there’s Yang, believe me this is true,
I don’t mean Asian tourists but how luck catches up with you,
Three awe inspiring visits to three impressive sites,
Is inevitably followed up by a trip to a pile of shit,
The final museum of the day was the Jeu de Paume
A blight on the Parisian landscape if ever there was one,
Arty-farty films that bored me half to death,
The nutty director must have been on crystal meth !
Incomprehensible rubbish that bored its audience,
I can’t believe I wasted time watching complete nonsense.
A very worthwhile Sunday, that was tarnished at the end
By some very dodgy films that I would never recommend
Nevertheless I love Sundays and wish they’d never finish,
Since Monday heralds a week of work and all it’s sordid business.
Other things i’ve done include delivering wine,
To a stunning flat that’s 20 times the size of mine.
But that’s no exaggeration, i’m not having a laugh,
Most of my appartment would fit in the bloody bath.
I helped out a friend who works in a wine cellar,
By delivering goods to a very wealthy fella,
The flat was in a quartier on a very trendy road,
I hoped to get a tip from the owner of said abode,
But no such luck, and not the slightest mention of any thanks,
The bloke cares less for politeness than money in the bank.
Despite saying i’d done little I have managed to write a lot,
But i’ve nothing else to say, so this is where i’ll stop.
Time refuses to stand still, I can’t ask it to wait!
I have no Bernard’s watch, to halt time in its path,
And i’m no Hermione Granger who bends time to make a class
So as it is, I can’t keep track, time floats by non-stop,
Everytime I see the date I get a nasty shock.
How is it March already? I’ve only just arrived!
Before I know it, i’ll be finished saying my goodbyes.
Perhaps it’s because I only work four days of the week,
But still I barely have time to catch up on my sleep.
However looking back on things I don’t feel i’ve achieved that much,
In fact i’d go as far to say i’ve not done anything as such.
Unless you count the museums, in which case i’ve done alot
The first Sunday of March I barely even stopped.
I took in four museums and three quarters were sublime,
So much so that I can’t wait to return another time.
The Pompidou’s amazing, full of fascinating art,
I strolled around as best I could, pretending to be smart,
Thank God I had a guide to explain some things to me
Otherwise i’d look at half of it quite dismissively.
Auguste Rodin, the sculptor, had crafted some bad ass things,
Most of the works in his museum I found overwhelming.
‘The Gates of Hell’,‘The Thinker’ as well as his ‘The Kiss’
You must see these badboys when you next visit Paris.
The final treat was Monet and his famous Waterlillies,
I didn’t think i’d be impressed, I thought this was just for sissies,
But how wrong was I? Well, very wrong indeed!
The enormous life-like paintings really struck a chord with me.
But where there’s Yin there’s Yang, believe me this is true,
I don’t mean Asian tourists but how luck catches up with you,
Three awe inspiring visits to three impressive sites,
Is inevitably followed up by a trip to a pile of shit,
The final museum of the day was the Jeu de Paume
A blight on the Parisian landscape if ever there was one,
Arty-farty films that bored me half to death,
The nutty director must have been on crystal meth !
Incomprehensible rubbish that bored its audience,
I can’t believe I wasted time watching complete nonsense.
A very worthwhile Sunday, that was tarnished at the end
By some very dodgy films that I would never recommend
Nevertheless I love Sundays and wish they’d never finish,
Since Monday heralds a week of work and all it’s sordid business.
Other things i’ve done include delivering wine,
To a stunning flat that’s 20 times the size of mine.
But that’s no exaggeration, i’m not having a laugh,
Most of my appartment would fit in the bloody bath.
I helped out a friend who works in a wine cellar,
By delivering goods to a very wealthy fella,
The flat was in a quartier on a very trendy road,
I hoped to get a tip from the owner of said abode,
But no such luck, and not the slightest mention of any thanks,
The bloke cares less for politeness than money in the bank.
Despite saying i’d done little I have managed to write a lot,
But i’ve nothing else to say, so this is where i’ll stop.
Saturday, 1 March 2008
French fancies
Stop abusing English food with tiresome, old remarks
What makes you so proud of your o.t.t French tarts?
I love shepherd’s pie so you laugh and take the piss,
Claiming I have no taste and that it’s such a simple dish.
If you had to name two things that the English love to eat,
You’d say trifle and potatoes are on our plates every evening of the week.
Oh, so do you eat frog’s legs and snails all the time?
And do you always glug it down with gallons of red wine?
Or do you only ever eat the finest French fromage?
You laugh at the thought of crumble, whether apple or rhubarb,
And call custard, “crème anglaise” but have you ever tried,
A really proper crumble with ice cream on the side?
Or cereal without chocolate that your kids demand in shops?
Whilst stuffing chocolate filled Brioche in to the big flat sloppy chops.
I’d take Jamie Oliver over your pretentious Guy Savoy,
It might not be “Haute-Cuisine” but English food fills me with joy,
And if I hear one more lame remark about English brussel sprouts,
I’ll forcefeed you dodgy sausages made by our friends the Krauts.
What makes you so proud of your o.t.t French tarts?
I love shepherd’s pie so you laugh and take the piss,
Claiming I have no taste and that it’s such a simple dish.
If you had to name two things that the English love to eat,
You’d say trifle and potatoes are on our plates every evening of the week.
Oh, so do you eat frog’s legs and snails all the time?
And do you always glug it down with gallons of red wine?
Or do you only ever eat the finest French fromage?
You laugh at the thought of crumble, whether apple or rhubarb,
And call custard, “crème anglaise” but have you ever tried,
A really proper crumble with ice cream on the side?
Or cereal without chocolate that your kids demand in shops?
Whilst stuffing chocolate filled Brioche in to the big flat sloppy chops.
I’d take Jamie Oliver over your pretentious Guy Savoy,
It might not be “Haute-Cuisine” but English food fills me with joy,
And if I hear one more lame remark about English brussel sprouts,
I’ll forcefeed you dodgy sausages made by our friends the Krauts.
6 weeks in Paris
28.02.08
Before Hudson arrived I’d made assumptions stupidly,
But nothing is predictable from the girl that’s from Bingley,
I thought we’d do the sights and I’d prepared myself for this,
Counting on the fact it’s her first trip to Paris.
And while we did the Louvre and the Basilique du Sacre-Coeur
In terms of Paris sights this was enough for her.
On the steps of the Sacre-Coeur we sat and watched buskers,
As February was providing us with as much sun as it could muster
Some weird old lady had had far too much and was dancing to the music,
Had no-one told her she was over the hill or was she refusing to believe it?
So whilst sitting in Montmartre, with views over the whole town,
My eyes scanned the horizon, left, right, up and down.
Thinking this is pretty French, I’m a real Parisian,
Before realising I found myself at another tourist attraction
But fortunately I saw it, I found what I was looking for,
Only five yards from me were a group sitting on the floor,
All sharing cheese and wine now just how French is that?
A simple sight like this made me a very happy chap.
You see I’m not happy being a tourist, I want to feel French
I want to be considered a native in every single sense.
This is why I persist in speaking French when a waiter speaks English
And why I force myself to eat the oddest tasting dish.
My accent is so obvious, people realise straight away,
That I’m an English university boy that isn’t here to stay.
Paris has got me in its grasp and I’m addicted to its charm,
Walking these streets at any time I feel safe from harm.
Hudson saw my frustrations at a café we went to,
When someone ignores my attempts at French it makes me feel like poo
The waiter spoke bad English as I continued in his language,
Perhaps he wanted us to know just how well he could manage.
The meal we ate was called “The French” and he asked us if we liked it?
I said yeah we liked “the French” at which he was delighted.
He said “haha, funny joke” in a very odd accent,
And just for the international relations that was 15 euros well spent.
We met up with Dorny and three lovely girls out here,
To go and see 2manydjs for the second time this year.
The girls will hate me if I talk too much about their drunken state
Better to say they behaved themselves than to lose three mates.
“Social Club” the venue, was just the place for me,
But not good for smokers or sweat, unfortunately!!
The place was rammed by one o’clock, I couldn’t move my feet.
It was like corned beef in a can, compacted greasy meat!
But the night was a success, and I’ll be going back
With mates on my birthday in a posse, group or pact.
Hudson’s time to go, came and quickly went,
But I’ll be forever grateful for the time over here she spent
Since I had a bit more focus, I had a better aim,
To integrate myself in France I really stood to gain.
So with a week off from work, (the gallery’s being rented out)
I thought I’d get my arse in gear and find out Paris is about.
I planned to do some research and some discovery
But truth be told the weather wasn’t kind to me.
I have done a few good things, went to a gallery outside of the Marais
All about immigrants and international djs
I tried to go to the Catacombs but this was a non-starter,
The bleeding thing is shut, so there’s no happy ever after,
It ruined my day and put an end to my concerted attempt,
To find more things in Paris other than work and paying rent.
But things are back on track, it’s free museum Sunday
I’ll take a stroll round some free places with Coates leading the way.
Before Hudson arrived I’d made assumptions stupidly,
But nothing is predictable from the girl that’s from Bingley,
I thought we’d do the sights and I’d prepared myself for this,
Counting on the fact it’s her first trip to Paris.
And while we did the Louvre and the Basilique du Sacre-Coeur
In terms of Paris sights this was enough for her.
On the steps of the Sacre-Coeur we sat and watched buskers,
As February was providing us with as much sun as it could muster
Some weird old lady had had far too much and was dancing to the music,
Had no-one told her she was over the hill or was she refusing to believe it?
So whilst sitting in Montmartre, with views over the whole town,
My eyes scanned the horizon, left, right, up and down.
Thinking this is pretty French, I’m a real Parisian,
Before realising I found myself at another tourist attraction
But fortunately I saw it, I found what I was looking for,
Only five yards from me were a group sitting on the floor,
All sharing cheese and wine now just how French is that?
A simple sight like this made me a very happy chap.
You see I’m not happy being a tourist, I want to feel French
I want to be considered a native in every single sense.
This is why I persist in speaking French when a waiter speaks English
And why I force myself to eat the oddest tasting dish.
My accent is so obvious, people realise straight away,
That I’m an English university boy that isn’t here to stay.
Paris has got me in its grasp and I’m addicted to its charm,
Walking these streets at any time I feel safe from harm.
Hudson saw my frustrations at a café we went to,
When someone ignores my attempts at French it makes me feel like poo
The waiter spoke bad English as I continued in his language,
Perhaps he wanted us to know just how well he could manage.
The meal we ate was called “The French” and he asked us if we liked it?
I said yeah we liked “the French” at which he was delighted.
He said “haha, funny joke” in a very odd accent,
And just for the international relations that was 15 euros well spent.
We met up with Dorny and three lovely girls out here,
To go and see 2manydjs for the second time this year.
The girls will hate me if I talk too much about their drunken state
Better to say they behaved themselves than to lose three mates.
“Social Club” the venue, was just the place for me,
But not good for smokers or sweat, unfortunately!!
The place was rammed by one o’clock, I couldn’t move my feet.
It was like corned beef in a can, compacted greasy meat!
But the night was a success, and I’ll be going back
With mates on my birthday in a posse, group or pact.
Hudson’s time to go, came and quickly went,
But I’ll be forever grateful for the time over here she spent
Since I had a bit more focus, I had a better aim,
To integrate myself in France I really stood to gain.
So with a week off from work, (the gallery’s being rented out)
I thought I’d get my arse in gear and find out Paris is about.
I planned to do some research and some discovery
But truth be told the weather wasn’t kind to me.
I have done a few good things, went to a gallery outside of the Marais
All about immigrants and international djs
I tried to go to the Catacombs but this was a non-starter,
The bleeding thing is shut, so there’s no happy ever after,
It ruined my day and put an end to my concerted attempt,
To find more things in Paris other than work and paying rent.
But things are back on track, it’s free museum Sunday
I’ll take a stroll round some free places with Coates leading the way.
5 Weeks in Paris
21.02.08
On my first weekend in the flat the apartment had a test,
My tiny little studio had to accommodate Jess.
My housemate from last year, booked a last minute flight,
Two days afterwards we were touring all the sights.
We managed all the attractions people associate with Paris,
I saw the Eiffel and Arc de Triomphe with the lovely “Bomber” Harris.
We toured the French capital, stopping off at Notre Dame,
Despite being an atheist and a Richard Dawkins fan.
We even saw the Louvre, which I’d seen the night before
Amy Coates, who loves to mother me, had given me a tour.
There are other things we did, that might bore you half to death,
But suffice to say we saw Paris, we walked it’s length and breadth.
If she was fatigued Jess showed little sign of it,
20 hrs without sleep didn’t stop her dancing to the Whip.
I showed her some Paris nightlife and took her to Showcase,
It wasn’t just the Whip, SMD supplied some tasty bass.
We went to Sacre-Coeur and place de la Bastille,
We meandered along the Seine and saw l’Hotel de Ville.
But everything went far too quickly, before I knew it she was gone.
Sad to see her go, but I’m not alone, well not for long.
Jess left me on Monday but Hudson comes today,
It feels like I’m running a B&B with the amount of guests coming to stay.
Work has been quite quiet with the owner in Berlin,
Searching for emerging artists he fancies exhibitionin’.
So things are ticking over, I’m managing just fine,
Despite man flu early in the week I think I will survive.
That’s it for now; I’ll tell you more sometime soon I hope,
And don’t forget to visit me, by plane, train or by boat.
On my first weekend in the flat the apartment had a test,
My tiny little studio had to accommodate Jess.
My housemate from last year, booked a last minute flight,
Two days afterwards we were touring all the sights.
We managed all the attractions people associate with Paris,
I saw the Eiffel and Arc de Triomphe with the lovely “Bomber” Harris.
We toured the French capital, stopping off at Notre Dame,
Despite being an atheist and a Richard Dawkins fan.
We even saw the Louvre, which I’d seen the night before
Amy Coates, who loves to mother me, had given me a tour.
There are other things we did, that might bore you half to death,
But suffice to say we saw Paris, we walked it’s length and breadth.
If she was fatigued Jess showed little sign of it,
20 hrs without sleep didn’t stop her dancing to the Whip.
I showed her some Paris nightlife and took her to Showcase,
It wasn’t just the Whip, SMD supplied some tasty bass.
We went to Sacre-Coeur and place de la Bastille,
We meandered along the Seine and saw l’Hotel de Ville.
But everything went far too quickly, before I knew it she was gone.
Sad to see her go, but I’m not alone, well not for long.
Jess left me on Monday but Hudson comes today,
It feels like I’m running a B&B with the amount of guests coming to stay.
Work has been quite quiet with the owner in Berlin,
Searching for emerging artists he fancies exhibitionin’.
So things are ticking over, I’m managing just fine,
Despite man flu early in the week I think I will survive.
That’s it for now; I’ll tell you more sometime soon I hope,
And don’t forget to visit me, by plane, train or by boat.
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