Week 17 Dimbs and Seb

I could have told you long ago this week would be a classic,
Paris always has potential – it’s just knowing how to tap it.
Two experts in the matter hailed from the fair city of Leeds,
Were looking for a good time to celebrate finishing their degrees.
The two of them arrived hungry and fairly tired,
But not too knackered to go out as it later transpired.
I took them on my standard tour of sights not far from me,
A lap of impressive sights associated with gay Paree;
Hotel de ville, Notre Dame and of course Gustave’s Eiffel Tower,
They all look fantastic lit up and they can be done within an hour.
Once we’d had some food and they’d unpacked their bags,
We set off to Social Club to see what fun could be had.
Kill the D.J. records night with Chloe and Remote,
Who played minimal beats with which my lethargic feet could cope.
Halfway through the night about 1 maybe 1:30,
I was grabbed by a bouncer in a manner that perturbed me,
But this was no time to be matey or try some cheeky charm,
He was clearly very angry and would not release my arm.
He demanded that I stopped asking for ecstasy,
I could not believe it and thought Beadle was filming me,
But his odd-sized hands were not in sight and this was not a joke,
I explained to the bouncer that I’m not that kind of bloke.
That muic is my only drug-my blood pulsates to its rhythm,
However my dancing is erratic- so the guy can be forgiven.
Later on that night just before I left the club,
Some English kid approached me asking for a-class drugs!!
That night’s sleep was just pure hell as I failed to catch the z’s
The Friday I spent at work I was crying out to rest my head.
But never to be beaten and rarely to be outdone,
That night we headed to Rex club to conintue the fun,
Boys Noize, Agoria and the Modeslektor pair,
Filthy, dirty beats in a famous electro lair.
Agoria- amazing, Modeselektor quite hardcore,
But Boys Noize stopped at nothing and tore up the dancefloor.
This architect of pleasure and maestro on the decks,
Turned music into romance and made love to the Rex.
One amazing night but the best was on its way.
We were in his city so Busy P would surely have his say!
Anyway, who can visit Paris and not sneak in a few old sights?
Even if we turned nocturnal and mostly went out late at night!
We hiked up the Arc de Triomphe in the middle of a storm,
But us Brits, we persevered -that’s staying true to form.
We also visited 'Beauborg’ then settled on the ‘Pont des Arts’,
Where all the social drinkers and the social smokers are.
But Sunday was the big one, a must on the clubbing calendar.
A special Sunday Seine cruise courtesy of Ed Banger.
The turn-out was outrageous, just a list of the big names,
With So_Me, Sebatian, & Gaspard of Justice fame.
Busy P & Mehdi and that other Justice chap,
DSL and Mr Flash also turned up and played some tracks.
Let’s not forget this was held on a dingy little boat,
Whose location was hidden and consequently quite remote.
No more than 300 others experienced this crazy, floating rave,
And the event will prove to be one of the most memorable of all my days!
Monday was just a quiet one, since there was no way that we could match,
Such an amazing night that we were so lucky to catch.
We spent some time at Trocadero and took a long relaxing stroll,
Back through the city centre before exhaustion took its toll.
The boys packed up their stuff and left the following day,
Taking a few extra memories back to the UK,
It took me a while to feel normal, and get back in to my routine,
But those few days were well worth it and still feel like a blurry dream.

Weeks 15 & 16

This last week has been busy and pretty varied too,
A new exhibition at the gallery has created much work to do,
The gallery was closed while we changed the paintings round,
Nakagami’s work went up as Olaf Rauh’s came down.
The artist was quite particular about where his work should go,
Some of it hung really high some of it hung low.
But it was left to me, to ascend the heady heights,
Since the gallery owner’s vertigo gave him quite a fright!
I’d also like to point out that he’s afraid of spiders,
Which makes me the man of the gallery-funny to outsiders!
I’ve never felt so unsafe, as I did up that ladder,
The nerves made me sweat profusely and played havoc with my bladder!
As I tiptoed up the rusting steps I offered prayers to god,
Praying the cheap frame wouldn’t buckle and I’d safely finish the job!
I’d reposition the painting until everyone was happy,
Then I’d sprint down the wobbly contraption pretty fucking snappy.
Once everything was done and I had my feet back on the floor,
Once everyone had tired of saying, “up, down, left right a little more”
We went for a bite to eat with the talented artist,
Only he didn’t speak a word of French and not much more English.
So during a meal in his honour, where we toasted his success,
The best way he had of understanding was to take a wild guess.
So in foreshadowing the opening night he kept on drinking beer,
As everyone else talked on in a language of which he had no idea.
The weekdays passed by seamlessly as the gallery took shape,
Being bossed around by a man unable to communicate.
But you don’t always need language to establish a rapport,
Those instances where words fail are what smiling is made for.
On the Saturday, the opening kicked off at 5,
But I strolled in a 7 because I’m a cheeky little skive.
It was a holiday in France so there was no-one wiling to serve drinks,
So I offered up the services of two cheeky little minx(es?),
As a way to practice their French and to see the arty world,
The drinks for this pretentious evening would be served by two small girls.
Sarrafan & Meacher-a combined 6 ft tall at best,
Dished out the Campari to our invited guests.
The artist was in attendance and got very pissed indeed,
Proving the biggest lightweights are certainly the Japanese.
He started pulling faces which strangely made good sense,
But I’m glad he can’t read English otherwise he might take offense,
Since he seemed quite convinced and certain of the fact,
That what he said was intelligible not utter mumbling crap.
On Sunday I did the d’Orsay along with the Sacre-Coeur.
The day was blessed with the very best bright and sunny weather.
We, that’s Amy, Soph and two of Amy Coates’ friends,
Pick-nicked in Montmartre- an ever increasing trend.
But the d’Orsay was my favourite, it’s a beautiful museum.
Paris has it’s fair share, it’s a privilege to see ‘em.
This one is quite special though-put it on your things to do,
A converted old train station, the building is stunning too.
Responsibility loomed large, very very large,
The owners left the gallery with me in complete charge.
The went off to an art fair, somewhere in Amsterdam,
While I looked after the paintings-a very worried man.
Fortunately it went quite well and there was a national holiday.
The French are hardly workaholics with an extra four days off in May.
I went to “Bois de Boulogne” with Amy and Sophie,
I fancied myself as a right pimp-two blonde girls and me!
We saw that rowing boats were completely free to hire,
But under the direct sunlight my pale skin felt like it was on fire,
So after an hour or so we moored the boat back up,
Found some ice creams to lick and some ice cold drinks to sup.
It wasn’t until later-once the girls fell asleep under the shade,
That I discovered that the boats weren’t free, in fact we should have paid.
It seems someone had hired a boat and the moored it to the side,
And as they enjoyed a tasty lunch in the restaurant inside,
We cheeky three young scallywags quickly nicked their boat,
Enjoyed a pleasant row and saved a 20 euro note!

Week 14

With birthday celebrations over there was no excuse for acting mad,
I was back to the old routine, but I refused to become sad.
So many reasons to be happy, so many things that make me smile,
Presents and cards from friends will keep me beaming for a while.
I won’t dish out a list of names of people who went the extra mile,
They did it because they care so a mention here isn’t quite their style.
My birthday has been and gone it’s about time I let it go,
It could not have gone better-that’s the last thing I’ll let you know.
Every single day I feel more settled here in town,
Giving out directions is proof I know my way around.
This last week I’ve been asked at least four times maybe five,
For a road, place or metro station and only once I’ve told a lie.
I knew most the places no problem- the fifth I had no clue,
But since she asked me rudely, I reflected on what to do,
It was clear she didn’t like me when she heard my foreign voice,
So either stay lost or follow my directions-she had to make a choice!
So faced with a rude, obnoxious Frenchie I knew exactly what to do.
Instead of pointing her in the right direction I nudged her towards the Pompidou!
Where there’s nothing but foreigners, I thought that would ruin her day,
But I took time to smile politely and waved her on her way!
In far more exciting news I found somewhere new to get my lunch,
Where the chicken is covered in mayo and the bread crisp to the crunch.
Helen hunt serves behind the counter, well it looks like her at least,
She titillates my tastebuds and serves up a scrumptious feast.
I’m not only mentioning this because it makes fascinating news,
But it’s discovery led to an encounter that left me so bemused.
To get to this special shop I have to take a different track,
Along which I was waved at by two men in a Fiat.
I thought they wanted directions, which I’m always happy to give,
Turns out they’d mistaken me for a right dumb, gullible div.
These Italians were flogging suits on the pavement from their car,
When I saw the label read ‘Armando Gunchi’ I had to stifle a laugh.
Apparently they’d been selling these at Galeries Lafayette,
They showed me the store on a map in case I hadn’t believed them yet.
I passed up this glorious chance despite their very best attempts,
My mum told me not to speak to strange looking elderly gents!
Friday night was spent with Yoann a mate from the gallery.
I spoke to his boyfriend Matthias as they cooked a French speciality,
Conversation faltered as I dug an awkward hole,
But thankfully we were saved by his Wii console.
By the end of the night, French chat was nicely flowing,
Yet when the couple got amorous it was time that I got going.
Saturday was beautiful and a hint of what’s to come,
Paris, more than anywhere looks so much better in the sun.
I met up with Michael Allen, a friend I know from Uni,
And with all his friends we checked out some cool photography,
Outside of the Sorbonne was an exhibition of 1968,
How the French rioted and how the police were to retaliate.
Outside my favourite gardens were hung a myriad photos,
All of which had once appeared within “le Figaro”.
Sunday I went to see some mates & was in for some surprise,
It was my first visit to “La Defense” with its imposing skyrise,
A frightening concrete jungle peppered here and there with glass,
But it’s well out of the city, which is an altogether different class.
“La Defense” is impressive though and made an impact on me,
But I felt like I was in the Truman show with all its CCTV.
Laura and Lilli cooked as I put up my feet,
Spending time with these two girls-the perfect way to end my week.