Beauvais And Peronne.

This is the third of the excerpts from Barbara's Travel Diary. In this part, Barbara and Colin go to Beauvais, about 70 km north of Paris, to stay with Barbara's penfriend, Monique Massin, and her husband, Andre Massin. Barbara and Monique finally met in 1998; though they had been penfriends since their school days, (ahem) much earlier in the century.

Alas, Monique is now no more. We received the appalling news, in June 2003, that she had died suddenly, the previous month. Let this page be a memorial to her and a recognition of our immense debt to both Andre and Monique.

Anyway, back in 2001, Andre and Monique were once again the best of hosts, and Monique's cooking was unsurpassable.

Saturday 25/8/01. Day 30. Hot.

We left Cardinal Lemoine station at 10-20 am and travelled via Duroc to reach Saint-Denis Basilique at 11 am. For a while, we drank coffee in an open air cafe near the station while we waited for Andre and Monique. Presently Monique appeared on foot, and the car, a new model, was not far away.
As we drove to Beauvais, Monique explained (with some help from her dictionary) the new car: the old one (almost new, actually), had been "kidnapped" from outside their house in broad daylight some months before. This was the first of two car disasters that had befallen Andre and Monique since we saw them last.
At Beauvais, we were installed in the master bedroom on the second floor. Downstairs once more, there was a drink of champagne and then a delicious luncheon, served and eaten
"au plein air".
Sliced tomatoes with mint parsley and garlic;
Buttered salmon cooked in foil and rice savoury with lettuce and bread; Camembert.
The meal was accompanied by red and white wines, and finished with eau de vie and sugar cubes.

While Monique worked in the kitchen, Andre, Colin, and I walked out to buy bread. Andre, when he shops for bread, takes a long cotton bag, something like a pillow slip, to carry home the baguettes. They have a horn or cornichon at each end.
Once again we passed the enormous and improbable bulk of the unfinished cathedral, perhaps the most ambitious mediaeval building in the world.
We came home for water, and went out again to walk a little way to see the faience decorations of Charles Greber on nearby houses. It was nearly 7-30 pm by now but still very summery. 31 degrees Celsius.

When we returned to the house, it was time for the next meal. Again, outside.
Aperitifs of Pastis and water with crackers.
Quiche (maybe Lorraine) and Salad. Red wine.
Roquefort cheese with bread. Red wine.
Creme Renversait (This course was eaten inside on account of darkness outside).
Bed-time 11-30 pm.

Sunday 26/8/01. Day 31. Very Hot Again.

Breakfast, about 9 am was brioche and baguette with home made jam: rhubarb, strawberry, red currant jelly. We had coffee in bowls and the meal was eaten off the table, without plates, which is the proper way as I discovered in the Hotel Teminus, Tarascon in 1998.

A six kilometre walk along a shady path, sometimes beside the River Therain (which flows into the Oise which flows into the Seine which flows into The Channel), took us to the Plain de l'Eau du Canada. This is a park with a big water area for recreational boating and a small area for swimming with a beach, well kept gardens and grass all around.
It was a pleasant walk. I talked to Monique. Colin talked to Andre. "Our friend the dictionary" passed from hand to hand. We saw wagtails, "bergeronniere", not the same as the Australian bird, but a greyish, light-coloured bird, eating something at grass level.

Back at the house, we sat down to a delicious lunch.
Champagne from Jura. A golden yellow liquid.
Rock melon. Very ripe and sweet. Monique likes to eat rock melon with pepper. We followed her example.
French red first, then a bottle of Australian shiraz was opened. Margaret (our daughter) had recommended we take this wine as a gift, but said to warn Andre and Monique that it would be strong. An Algerian wine is a good comparison. Colin christened the shiraz "Vin Sauvage".
Fillet of pork, pot roasted with onions, garlic, salt and pepper, thyme, and bay leaves. Accompanied by home grown green beans.
Most of the fruits and vegetables came from the vegetable garden; their house block is narrow, maybe fifteen metres, but very deep, say seventy metres, and the vegetable garden interspersed with fruit trees, shrubs and flowers, is extensive.
Bread accompanied every course.
Mimolette, a cheese from Holland.
Rhubarb Tart.
Same pastry as yesterday's quiche and a custard base.

Perspiring both from the weather and the effort of digestion, we set off by car about 4 pm for Saint Felix (Oise). We were going to visit a water wheel powered brush factory.
The waterwheel turning in the Therain provided the power to grind grain as well drive brush making machinery. The brush factory is now a working museum, but in the twentieth century it provided employment for almost 11,000 people since 1910.
The explanation of the methods, and the demonstrations of the machines was interesting to us, but not to two small boys who were inspecting the factory with their parents. They became more and more bored and pestiferous.
The factory was a really a death trap with unguarded machines, uncovered belts, and general untidiness everywhere. Inevitably, one boy fiddling with a machine hurt himself, and had to be helped, howling, from the scene. A very satisfying example of natural justice.
Nearby was a quasi official picnic and camping area. We walked around the grounds for a while before driving back to Beauvais.

The evening meal.
Ham, ratatouille, bread, escarole salad dressed with oil and vinegar, cheese.
Our other gift bottle of Shiraz came out.
Vanilla icecream with real vanilla grounds for flavour.
Calvados and sugar cubes.

Andre showed us photographs of an MG (a TF I think) that he had bought and restored. This was the second car disaster. One night when the car was in the garage under the house, an electrical fault caused a fire in the car's engine compartment. The fire damaged the interior of the car, severely. The house also suffered smoke damage.

Monday 27/8/01. Day 32. Warm but overcast.

Today's breakfast was much as yesterday's, but with the addition of local honey from a variety of flowers, and fresh strawberries, including wild strawberrries from the garden.

Colin and I went for a walk with Andre round the streets of Beauvais. We saw more faience decorations; the Treasury, where Monique had worked; where Philippe and Beatrice had gone to Creche; and the "House Of Scandal", a magpie style reconstruction which had cost a fortune in municipal funds, but had obviously been good for someone.

Le Dejeuner
Tomatoes and garlic, bread and red wine.
Chicken boiled with vegetables.
Vegetables served after the chicken that had been boiled with them. We had peas, very small potatoes and carrots from the garden.
Cheeses. A camembert from Normandy and the mimolette. Served with bread.
Fresh fuit. Pears, apples, and grapes.
Once the dishes were done, we set off for Amiens.

We found the Jules Verne Museum closed for the day, but we saw where he had lived for some time, and died, and we visited the cemetery where his remains are buried.
The cemetery was an incredible place: more like a town, really; for many of the tombs were the size of small houses. Verne's tomb was modest in comparison, topped by a representation of the author emerging from the grave, dazzled by the light of the Day Of Judgement. But the cemetery visit, suitably enough, came near sunset.

First in Amiens we went to a water garden museum, "Les Hortillages". Les Hortillages is an immense area of low-lying land intersected and drained by numerous canals and channels.
It must once have been swamps along the course of the Somme. The drained land has long been used for market gardens. What the tenure is we didn't discover, but many people have allotments and dwellings there, some quite large and luxurious, others hovels, some in ruins. I don't think electricity or water are supplied to Les Hortillages.
We travelled along the canals by silent, electrically powered "barque a la cornet". A barque could hold twelve people. We saw ducks, flower and vegetable gardens, overhanging trees, all quite beautiful.

Afterwards we walked beside the Somme towards the centre of Amiens. We saw young men running, perhaps football training, a nervous cat being wheeled in a pram. Children feeding ducks and people fishing at the backs of their houses. One young couple appeared to be fishing for their tea.

We visited the splendid cathedral Notre Dame d'Amiens which Beauvais had meant to surpass. The point of the visit was the illuminations. It had recently been discovered that brilliant lights revealed the colours originally applied to the statuary at the front of the church. A sound and light show had been devised to take advantage. But the show was too late. It waited for darkness and did not start until 10 pm. Although we had had a large lunch, our stomachs began to complain that lunch had been eaten long ago.

We drove back to Beauvais. Seventy kilometres in one hour which was good going.
We were restored with Pastis, an aperitif. By 11-30, the resourceful Monique had produced
Soup, packet minestrone with bread,
Lettuce with vinaigrette (the vinaigrette is salt pepper, wheat germ, 2 tablespoons of cider vinegar, 3 tablespoons of olive oil, 1 clove "gousse" of garlic),
Red wine,
Leftover boiled chicken,
Bread and cheese,
Plum Clafouti.
Andre brought out Lille gin "Genevievre" or "Genievre".
We went to bed at 1 am on...

Tuesday 28/8/01 Day33. Cooler than yesterday, pleasantly Mild.

Breakfast: fresh bread, rhubarb jam and local honey, black coffee.
The morning was spent reading about excursions, looking at photographs, and watching Monique cooking lunch.
We had an earlier lunch so we could leave in good time for the battlefields of World War One.
Lunch was
Salmon Torte (It was sooo delicious, and you will get the recipe when we type the collected recipes).
A salad of lettuce, tomatoes, onions, and olives.
Bread and red wine.
Clafouti des prunes.

Afterwards we drove to see three very different memorial structures in or near the Somme valley: the Australian Monument; the Newfoundland Monument (which also served to memorialize a Scots unit of the British army which suffered at the same place; and the British Monument which is the biggest British Monument in the world.
There was also a tower monument, called the Ulster Tower.
These memorials were horrifying places, heavy with the knowledge that hundreds of thousands of men had met near here their deaths in the great battles of 1916.
The enormous British monument (it covered several acres and must have been twenty metres high) bore, among other inscriptions, the names of more than three hundred thousand men of the British Army who had perished in France, and whose remains have never been found.
The Newfoundland Monument and The Ulster Tower both memorialized colonial units of the British Army which had been destroyed at these places.
As well as damage caused by German gunfire during the advance of 1940, the Australian Monument bore thousands of familiar Australian names on the wall-of-names and on grave markers.
Some of the names, such as "H.Richardson, "MacPherson", "Martin", "Bawden" are well-known to our family.
After this very sobering experience, at about 8 pm, we arrived again at Amiens, to have dinner, and to see the illuminated front of the cathedral.
We ate at a cafe beside a sort of little waterfront by the Somme, which flows through the town. The cafe was called "The Capitainerie".
I ate flamiche des poireaux with lettuce and tomato salad, two half slices each of lemon and orange, and a bread roll as an entree. Instead of a main course, I enjoyed a dessert of profiteroles - very crisp - filled with ice cream, garnished with one slice each of kiwi fruit and star fruit, and served with chocolate sauce and creme chantilly.
Colin ordered a ficelle - a pancake filled with ham and mushroom, also tagliatelle with salmon, garnished with prawns and mussels. His dessert was tarte tatine with cream. We drank rose. Andre and Monique ate similar dishes.

Next to the cathedral for the spectacle of the illuminations. The front of the thirteenth century cathedral, the biggest Gothic cathedral in the world, is intricately decorated with statuary illustrating Bible storie and religious themes. Vestigial remnants of colurs can be seen on the statues in bright sunlight. At night-time, using lights stronger than sunlight, the full clours are revealed. Textures such as velvet and satin and complex designs appear as the lights play on the carvings. Mediaeval music and choral singing accompanied the commentary.

Listening to the singing of Maxime Leforestier from the car radio as we drove through the dark to Beauvais, we arrived home just after midnight.
This day produced complex emotions and impressive sights. Some of the things I remember are wild flowers and weeds everywhere. Queen Anne's Lace (carottes sauvage), small daisies like maritime daisies but white, purple flowers shaped like scotch thistles, but not scotch thistles (smaller flowers, too). And actual scotch thistles.
Everywhere green trees with ivy and etc. climbing the trunks - a very lush effect. White dust rising anywhere agricultural work is taking place; from the white clay/flint soil of the area. White cattle (Charolais?).
Huge tractors. Narrow winding roads - never straight - through the numerous villages.
My father came to France in 1916 as a soldier for the First World War: I wondered what it would have been like for men from the farming communities around Ballarat to have found themselves here. Perhaps they could have thought themselves at home in the fields here, away from the trenches. It is one month today since we arrived in Europe.

Wednesday. 29/09/01. Day 34. Milder.

With Andre, we visited the Musee Departmentale in the former Bishop's Palace. There was an exhibition of the garden paintings of Henri Le Sidaner. He had developed extensive gardens and terraces in the village of Gerberoy in the late nineteenth century. We saw a model of the village which helped us to understand the locale of the paintings. The model village also reminded us of our visit in to Gerberoy in 1998.
As well we saw exhibited a couple of pieces of sculpture by Henri Greber (of the faience decorations), and several other sculptures; also pottery of the art-nouveau period - huge vases with such decorative motifs as sunflowers lilies, leaves, etc. There were many paintings by other (unknown to us) artists.

Lunch... was preceded by a Ricard pastis.
Then there was a mixed salad.
Followed by
Five star beef with potatoes, beans, peas, and carrots.
Cheese was Maroilles, a camembert from "The North".
All the courses were supported by bread and red wine.
For dessert - a rhubarb tarte.

Once the dishes had been dealt with (about 4 pm) we set off for Chantilly, about sixty kilometres away.
The car journey finished in narrow, winding, stone-walled streets. We had come to Chantilly to see the chateau and its splendid stables. Now the stables are beside a horse racing course: in French "hippodrome", an expression which always brings to mind the "Dance of the Hours" in Walt Disney's "Fantasia". Anyway, spectacular equestrian events are held here.

You enter the chateau grounds by a bridge over a moat. Looking over the bridge wall into the moat itself, one could see monstrous fishes idling in the water, no doubt waiting hungrily for one of the incautious tinies, amusing their parents with impromptu gymnastics on the parapet, to slip and plunge into the inky depths.
Once across the bridge we saw on our left the chateau itself, and almost everywhere else, the chateau grounds. We did not go into the chateau. Monique said it was not as well decorated as the chateau at Compiegne which we had seen in 1998. We walked for ages in the "Parc" which was laid out as a rural paradise with lakes, villages, forests, and gardens.
THe paths were dusted with white chalk which coated our shoes. The mock hamlet here, complete with mill and mill wheel, was the origin of "Creme Chantilly". The forests looked very like the ones seen in Cocteau's film, "La Belle et La Bete".

After a quick look at the racecourse, we drove back to Beauvais and our last evening meal at "Chez Massin".
Soupe de la maison - pea and vegetable.
Cold chicken and beef with mixed salad, cornichons (gherkins).
Bread and red wine.
A camembert from Cambrai (un fromage du Nord).
Plum clafouti.
Finally, calvados with sugar cubes. (A digestif). Thursday 30/08/01. Day 35. Some raindrops fell. Cooler, but still short-sleeves weather.

Breakfast, Fresh baguettes, local "honey of all flowers", jelly of red currants and strawberries (du jardin), rhubarb "confiture", and coffee.
After breakfast, photographs.
Le potager, Andre and Monique, the "Motobecane" ( an Italian motorcycle, maybe equivalent to a BSA Bantam), and the Velosolex.
This last was a late forties response to post-war austerity and the high price of fuel. The Velosolex was essentially a bicycle with a 30 cc engine that could drive the front wheel, or not drive it if the cyclist chose to pedal. Andre has quite a collection of old bicycles and motor cycles jammed in his garage under the house.

Our last gastronomic treat was home-grown raspberries with icing sugar.

We set off by car to drive about sixty miles north east to Peronne.
Peronne was fought over a couple of times in the First World War. In August/September 1918, British and Australian soldiers evicted the Germans during the final retreat of the German Army.
My father had been a driver for the Australian army during the First World War, and his service inspired us to visit the French battlefields, although, actually my father's war service had been further north again, and in Belgium.

We found the hotel in Peronne after driving round a bit.
The "Hostellerie des Remparts" had reserved us a suite on the third floor. There was a sitting room/bedroom, and a large ensuite bath, shower, toilet. The suite was decorated in mock second empire style, painted in shades of pink, and graced by strategically placed mirrors and ornaments. The whole was not unpleasing, as much an interior design achievement as the farm implement hung, corrugated iron walled farm shed dining room of the Hotel Tasmania in Launceston, which we encountered in 1995.

The hostellerie prided itself on its dining room, and mentioned same to Andre, so we all ate lunch there.
The 90FF menu.
Entree, ham and melon.
Main, "coquilot" or spatchcock with potato gems, haricots verts and other vegetables.
Dessert, Chocolate Mousse.

During the afternoon we all visited the "Historial de la Guerre 1914-18". This was a museum in the partially rebuilt ruins of Peronne Castle. My diary says, "Pictures, videos, artefacts, etc. of the war - before during and after. Very graphic!"
It was indeed very moving to see illustrations and examples of the experiences my father and his friends endured during their war service. Although the first war is no longer "The Great War", it cost Australia more in wounds and lives than any other conflict before or since.

There was a bar/brasserie in the shopping centre, not far away where we recovered our normal spirits with hot chocolate or Belgian beer ("Leffe" - fabrique par les moins).

We said goodbye and thank you to Andre and Monique. What kind and generous hosts they were! "Thank you" can be a very inadequate word, sometimes.
We hope that one day we can repay their kndnesses in Australia.

In the hotel dining room, the evening meal, prix fixe 108FF.
Entree, Salmon and melon (B), eel pate (C).
Mains, Eye of beef (rare) with garlic, potato gems (maybe you can see a bit of a catering pattern emerging here), tomato, haricots verts wrapped in bacon, and a piece of courgette with tomato puree and an olive quite carefully arranged in a sort of sculpture (B). I drew the courgette arrangement, but you will have to imagine it.
(C) had guinea fowl (first time ever) on a round bed of rice.
Dessert, three cheeses each with bread.
Wine, Beaujolais about 105 FF.
Bed was very comfortable.

Friday 31/08/01. Day 36. Overnight rain and thunder. Cool with some heavy rain showers.

Breakfast in the breakfast room. Orange juice, baguettes and croissants with apricot jam or redcurrant/raspberry jelly, coffee.

We went to the Tourist Bureau to enquire about the train to Paris, for our intended return on Saturday. Surprise: the railway to Peronne has been abandoned for many years; we must take a bus to St.Quentin Railway Station and then a train to Paris.
Returned to the "Historial" to buy postcards to send off to those keeping the home fires stoked. As we were about to go to lunch, a heavy thunderstorm struck; so we gave the foyer display a good deal more attention than it warranted.
As the sky cleared, we walked up to the commercial centre to find lunch. We stpped at a chinese cafe which offered a prix fixe meal for 40FF.
We ate there: the food was good and the servings generous, plus there was "Tsingtao" beer.

Part of the town wall and moat survive, right behind the Hostellerie actually, hence the name.
We went for an explore, through the Breton Gate and around the ramparts. The gardens and buildings were haunted by number of sullen looking and generally unprepossessing youths and maidens. What they purposed there, goodness knows, and we didn't linger.
We walked through the streets, past Monique's old Lycee (now abandoned), up to the cemetery in order to visit the war graves.

The war graves have their own section of the cemetery. Divided into "them and us". Aren't you impressed that the greatest twentieth century achievement of our betters was to twice unite humankind into two opposed camps, each camp aiming to annihilate the other?
The graves contain 1065 British, 517 Australians, 9 South Africans, and 97 Germans.
British and Australian soldiers liberated Peronne on the 31/8 - 1/9 1918.
The town is still grateful to the Australians; we saw a sign on the side of the Town Hall. It said "Roo de Kanga - 1918-1998 - We do not forget the Australians."
We saw many headstones were dated 31/8 or 1/9. We saw one headstone which read "A Skeen, 21, 31/8/1918". Well, we know a family with that surname in Point Lonsdale.
As we walked back to the hotel, we came to the conclusion that Peronne is a little rundown: my diary says, "Shopkeepers aren't flat out working."
Before tea, Colin went for a walk to the Cathedral. As interesting as any working church. This one had suffered a lot of damage on the east facing wall. A leaflet explained that an ammunition train had exploded at the railway station (about a kilometre to the west) in 1944.

For our evening meal, we went again to the Chinese cafe.
The total cost was 198FF (about AU$25 each . What we got was ...
One spring roll each (like the rice-paper rolls we get in Geelong). Colin also had three ravioli (steamed dim sims).
Colin had beef and onions with steamed rice. I had beef "piquante" (sweet and sour) with Cantonese rice (fried rice).
Wine, Cote du Rhone, maybe 38FF.
Dessert. Colin had creme liegeois or coffee icecream, I had Princesse de Champagne: it was frozen cream with raisins soaked in Marc de Champagne. My dessert came in a nice little plastic chapagne bottle. I kept it as souvenir, and it now grazes a window sill in Queenscliff.
Digestifs. I had Cointreau.
Colin was more adventurous: he had a rice alcochol called Mei Kuei Lu Chiew. It was a colourless liquid, served in a small china cup, not unlike an egg cup, but larger and wider. In the base of the cup was a marble.
When the cup was full, Colin thought he could see a naked female figure in the marble. But when the cup was empty there was nothing in the marble at all.
Just another nasty metaphor.
Finally. We had black coffee.
In this cafe, there was an animated picture of a waterfall on the wall. Back lighting and alternating patterns created the effect of water moving and falling. Perhaps alcochol added the faintest touch of verisimilitude.

Back in the suite, we watched the TV. CNN from the UK.
It was the "Tampa Crisis" (as it is known in Australia).
A Norwegian freighter had rescued hundreds of refugees from a sinking boat. It took them to the nearest land, Christmas Island, an Australian possession in the Indian Ocean.
The Australian government refused to allow the refugees to land on Christmas Island.
We watched aghast, disgusted by our government's cruel behaviour. And this meanness won the perpetrators a national election. Words fail!

Saturday 1/9/01. Day 37. Fine. Mild to warm.

Essentially the same breakfast in the breakfast room.
We packed up and paid for our suite, thus ensuring the hotel's profits for the remainder of the year.
Somewhat excited, because we did not know exactly where the bus stop was, we hung around near the cathedral ready to wave and shout.
Near unto the appointed bus departure hour, parked cars moved and revealed the bus stop, painted on the roadway.
A family of three who had been doing their shopping were the only other passengers. They dismounted at the first stop outside Peronne, leaving us the only passengers for the rest of the trip to St.Quentin.

We continued to be amazed at how much the country-side in northern France resembles the country-side around Newlyn in Victoria. Coming out of Peronne, the road was lined with big trees and green grassy verges: this sight reminded me of the Avenue of Honour in Kingston.
Charolais, then later, black and white cattle sat about or grazed; red poppies flowered by the roadside.
The bus wound a tortuous route to St.Quentin via Mons, Estree, Vermand, Holnon, and Francilly-Eglise.
Everywhere we saw trees, rowans with berries, ash, beech and the famous (to us) "New York tree". We first noticed the "New York tree" in New York (nyah,nyah, nyah!) in 1998.
It looked like a cross between a fern and a palm and perhaps a cannabis plant. It was growing vigorously in median strips, in cracks in roads, bridges, and buildings: anywhere a seed could sprout. After we saw the tree in New York, we saw it almost everywhere. Not much in the UK, though.
We asked lots of people, but no-one could put a name to this plant. No-one except Andre; he told us its common name was "Vinaigrier". but he did not know the scientific name.
Back in Australia, this is leaping ahead a bit I know, I went to the library and borrowed an encyclopaedia of trees. I looked at the pictures 'til I found the "New York tree".
Its common name is "Tree Of Heaven" in English. It is a "noxious" or prohibited plant in Victoria.
The scientific name is Ailanthus altissima. Here is a bit more useful knowledge:
"The tree-of-heaven is an extremely fast-growing (3 to 5 feet in one season), though short-lived, tree. Native to China, it was introduced to the US in 1784, and is widely cultivated in Iowa urban areas, it often escapes to grow on vacant lots and in waste areas. The tree-of-heaven is best planted only in areas where it is impossible to grow other species. The weak, brittle wood is easily damaged in storms, the leaves produce very little fall color and the prolific seed reproduction and root suckering make this a high-maintenance tree."

St Quentin is extensive and looks very go ahead with lots of industry compared to poor, rundown Peronne.
Our bus tickets cost us 51FF for two. Train tickets to Paris were Colin 117 FF and Barbara 88 FF (because I got Senior's Discount).
We ate lunch in a bar adjacent to the large modern station. Delicious ham omelettes with potato chips and a jug of red wine. The omelettes were 27 FF each and the wine 14 FF.

The TGV arrived at the station on time and reached Paris seventy three minutes later after a stop at Compiegne. Otherwise the train went so fast, we could not read any station names; but we did see panoramas of farms and villages, well kept vegetable gardens; and in many of the towns "parcelles de terre" or community gardens.
People who live in apartments can hire some ground for a garden.

This time at the Gare du Nord we were too clever for the pickpockets. We went by RER B towards Luxembourg but transferred before that station, so as to arrive at Cardinale Lemoine Station, which is marginally closer to Keith and Meta's. The trains were very crowded. The usual beggar with a baby, but no pickpockets.
We had a cool drink with Keith and Meta, went for a stroll, and finished up at an Italian restaurant for dinner. The servings were big, but not overly expensive.
Colin had a pescatore pizza, I was more adventurous with linguine plus cream cheese sauce and walnuts.
Meta had pasta with seafood. Keith had pasta amatriciana.
We drank red wine and water (gazeuse svp).
Colin and Keith had desserts - profiteroles filled with ice-cream, surmounted by cream and chocolate sauce; and tiramisu.
Colin's brand new replacement Visa Card was test flown here, but crashed and burned.
We had to do a fair bit of strolling around before we felt comfortable enough to go home to bed.

The next day, Keith and Meta were leaving early for Kathmandu. We would have the apartment to ourselves for a another week. You can read about what happened next in Further Adventures In Paris.