The boring weather

Paris, fall on your knees and thank me later. Build an altar, a church, a cathedral of thanks. Throw a thousand rose petals in my wake. Bring me a meringue dusted with gold leaf every hour on the hour, an oyster with a pearl of great value. I know how much you appreciate the stunning weather I packed up in the USA and brought to you in my Jack White/Dalai Lama bespoke shoulder bag – the only remotely cool thing I seem to be wearing. I can hear it in the uncorking of lunchtime champagne by picnickers in Place des Vosges, listen to you casually drop a word or two about it in boulangerie conversations, see your texting to each other about – how boring - but really everyone has had to comment about it - the sunshine day after day after day following my arrival. I know it was heartless to suck all it up and take it away from Tennessee, but Paris, after a winter of snow, I thought you deserved no less. Enjoy! C’est superb!