Careful. You're about to boldly go where not many people have gone before. This post will be about nothing but good things. I know, I was flabbergasted too. Which is why I'm warning you.
I've just had a lovely evening. I was meeting two of my ex-colleagues - and friends - tonight. Actually, I was supposed to meet three of them, but the third one was a no-show. It's all right, she'd said she might not be with us. I'm holding a grudge, but as I said this was going to be about good things only, I'll keep my bile for a different piece. Mwahah.
So, after getting lost around the Bastille area for a bit (and just how do you get lost there after working in said area for nearly two years? Well, it takes practice), I finally got to my destination, the Café de l'Industrie. B (girl) and and Y (boy) were waiting for me there (got lost, remember?), champagne glass in hand (yes, one of us has found a job, and no, it wasn't me) and we started chatting about work (or lack thereof, but let's not go there today), friends, life, the universe, everything. All of this lively banter was irregularly but often (and we like irregular and often) interrupted by both of us girls conspicuously losing braincells at some of the guys who passed the window, opposite which we were conveniently sat. Much giggling and finger-wagging ensued each time, as we were 15 again and Y felt he was not getting the attention he deserved. He's married. Tough. As he was meeting other friends afterwards (and don't I love it when somebody reshuffles their plans just so they can at least have a drink with me?), he was kind of sad to leave us, considering the alcohol and general good humour, but alas, leave he did, and it was us two girls.
Sorry, we just got rudely interrupted by my washing-machine making a noise like something from War of the Worlds was landing in my kitchen. It's all fine. My neighbours might not be my best friends anytime soon though.
Where was I? Oh yes. So B and me were going to talk seriously, I'm sure, but we drank more, saw more good-looking men, and then we ate. Now, if you're going to find yourselves in the vicinity of Bastille soon, you might want to go to the Café de l'Industrie, and you would be right. It's a lovely place, with a great atmosphere, very lively, very French. Just don't go there for the food. Eat if you must, but don't expect to enjoy it. And if you do enjoy it, leave France. And don't come back.
Please don't think that the food spoiled the mood though. Oh no, it didn't. It was girl chat all the way, and because B has lived in New York, she explained it all to me. Or most of it, anyway. And she said that if I find a job there, she'll come with me and help me settle. Nice, eh? OK, in truth, she said she'd brief me. But still. And hearing her talk about it, I could picture myself in New York. New York will love me.
Not sure that I can take the roaches, but hey, I'm willing to try.