I don't know where to begin. It started with a London sunrise. Not for me, but for Kat and Mikee, who started the day with the night before. They went to Fabric on Friday and instead of just having a Really Good Night, they stretched the night into Three Really Good Days, getting home from Fabric with just enough time for a cup of tea before their taxi arrived to take them to St Pancras International. The sunrise saw them out of London and the next day met them in Paris and I was there, exactly like last weekend except slightly more hungover this time, smiling behind the barriers awating my pair of foreign beggars.
Well, not quite beggars, but we all had one hundred euros each and after the Festival of Excessive Spending I enjoyed last weekend, I was worried it wouldn't be enough. It was Paris on the cheap this time, rather than Paris on the Insanely Out of Your Own Budget.
Despite having no sleep, Kat and Mikee pushed on through the day, sweeping the night behind them like a cloak. (A neon ravey cloak with adidas stripes.) We got the bus back to mine so they could drop their stuff off and have a marvel through the windows at the City of Light. Then from mine we went straight up the Arc de Triomphe. They went from the pavements of London to the skies of Paris in the space of a weekend lie-in; that is why I love the Eurostar.
From the Arc de Triomphe we walked all the way down to the Grand Palais where hunger got the better of us and we broke into our precious 100 euros for a crêpe. From there we took the metro to Montmartre, none of that silly taxi business this weekend, just a 3,40€ ticket jeune which you can use on buses, trams and métros all day.
As we climbed up the little streets to the Sacré Cœur we stopped by a streetside farm; the wall with 'I love you' written in a thousand languages; and a little restaurant where you can get a cider or a fruit juice, a galette and then a crêpe for 9,70 €. It did mean we had basically eaten three crêpes in the space of half an hour, but when in France... The restaurant was called Crêperie Brocéliande and it's number 15, Rue des Trois Freres.
At the top of the Sacré Cœur there were people giving away free hugs, but only Mikee went in for a calin gratuit. From Montmarte we walked down to Pigalle and went in Les Deux Moulins, the cafe that Amélie was filmed in.
After a coffee to try and perk us up, we realised a nap was in order if were going to last the night so we went back to mine and tried to get a quick Disco Nap. None of us really slept, but even lying in the dark being quiet worked wonders because we managed to stay out for six hours, which when you remember that Mikee and Kat had come straight from a club Ricky, that's not just me being a Boasty McGee; it is pretty impressive.
The night was so fucking brilliant that it deserves a whole post of it's own and right now I'm going to bed because tomorrow the five year old is having his Mental Mate round for the day. (All kids have a Mental Mate- a little chum who likes to throw heavy objects around the house and who isn't scared of Death By On-coming Truck.) So tomorrow I'll write up the rest of Kat and Mikee's weekend and then I promise I'll get back to moaning and making everyone feel better about their own lives.