“>Firefox’s Weather Bug tells me it’s -4.8 degrees out there, and I am warmly ensconced inside, in a kain batik my mom left behind, in solidarity with Rozie Rashid and her divas. I am grateful that I have moved over the summer, because had I still been at Oxford Court, even with all the heating on I would struggle to sit in anything less than three layers thick. Praise be to efficient heating and double-glazed windows.
The kain batik is one of many things left behind by my family’s fortnight visit in the middle of last December. Another is the return of the sense of responsibility I have conveniently shelved since I moved abroad almost a decade ago. I have gotten used to fending for myself. Making sure eight others are fed, warm and hydrated, not to mention suitably occupied so as not to cause mass destruction is no mean feat, and not cheap, either. Why others in the party well-conversant in English suddenly lose the ability to speak the language continues to baffle me, but that’s perhaps for me to never know or ever find out.
Today is the first day I am back at my digs alone. After the sibs (sans Nadia) left for Malaysia on Saturday the Thirteenth, my parents (plus Nadia) stayed on for a few more days, before we then went to Paris and they subsequently left for Malaysia ex-Charles de Gaulle. My return to Britain was met by D & S, who accompanied me to Colchester and we were subsequently joined by I the next day (or technically, the day after). D & S left for London and Exeter last Saturday, which was the same day NXEA decided it would be fun to make people wait in subzero temperatures outside Chelmsford station for buses to Witham station. Of course, I had to join said party. The last of the crew left for home today, and now it is me, my mess, a pile of welcome reading and dirty laundry, before a short sojourn a week tommorow. CSI makes good Tuesday night company.
While spending time in Paris with one’s loved ones is advocated, loved ones in this context rarely refers to the parental units. But my parents were cool in that once I’d spoken enough French to order a pizza and two kebabs for their dinner, I was free to roam the capital of France after dark. Which was when this set was taken. Although it was a double-bill, really: I needed to ‘recce’ the route to the Eiffel so that I could take them the next day. This proved useful – my failure to suss out where the Mosque de Paris was meant a (nice!) walk through the Latin Quarter past the Sorbonne where the mosque was: interestingly enough my parents loved the stroll; it was Nadia who complained about all the walking!
No, this is not the ‘official’ account of the trip, Dr. Roger. That may be quite a while away yet. But consider this the teaser to the filler to the account. The filler should come by pretty soon. For one thing, I want to get accounts of this trip out of the way before I start the next!
