The Pavement of Paris, Sunday, 8 November

The topic of the day is, at least at the moment, dogs and what they leave on the pavement of Paris.

It has always been a complaint by tourists that the likelihood of wearing dog droppings on the bottom of one’s shoes is greater in Paris than in most other places. In the past we have discussed this phenomenon at some length so do not propose to repeat ourselves. Rather, consider this an update on this serious topic.

On this trip, the pavements seem dirtier with more of the dog crap than in the past. At the same time we have not seen the “flushing” of the streets which we saw every evening on previous visits. Paris has a system where water comes out of the curbside and washes down the streets. Perhaps this is a seasonal phenomenon - pity the dogs haven't been informed if that is indeed the case. That dogs are a problem can be seen from the sticker which we noticed on the door of a shop. The message is clear, “keep your dog droppings off our front step!”

Damn, don't you just hate it when you get it wrong? We went out about fifteen minutes ago and found the streets running with water. Nothing like reality to explode a really great theory!

While we were out we passed our local hardware store; very Islamic! As we passed, the proprietor, an unsmiling, bearded Arab signalled us in a most pre-emptory way to come inside. When we did so he offered us fresh dates from a bowl. They were absolutely the best ever. There go all the stereotypes. Anyway, he is a good businessman and we have been discussing the need for an iron in the flat to replace the old one on which the wires are stripped to a dangerous degree. Guess where we will be going to get the iron. Got it in one, didn't you.

The apartment we rent is not serviced, so today is cleaning day. Seems you can’t escape no matter how far away from home you go! But as a treat, after cleaning, we went out to lunch at one of my favourite restaurants, Leon's of Brussels. The house specialty is mussels and chips and they are sensational. Virginia had a beef dish while I indulged in Moules Frites to my heart's (or more likely my stomach's) delight.

In order to work off such an extravagent lunch, we walked back to the flat via rue Lepic, taking the funicular up to the top of the butte and then walking down the other side. A long lunch, a bit of wine, a long walk in Paris, what could possibly be a nicer way to spend a Sunday? The answer is stopping on your walk to listen to street bands. Now if that doesn't make it perfect, I don't know what can.