Note: To understand the story from the beginning click here.
I’m on a train. It’s really early. I can’t see properly yet but everything is OK, as I have nabbed a table seat for only me AND it has a plug socket – winner. It’s always a gamble when you travel next to randoms, isn’t it? All it takes is a bit of eye contact and then it’s game over; prepare for hours of potentially awkward chat. Forgive how anti-social I sound – to be fair it is 7am. I’m not good at 7am.
Mt destination is Geordie Land, man. The parentals were born and raised in those parts, so I like to think of myself as a bit of an adopted northerner (brushing over the fact that I was born and raised in Dorset). Me mam (translation – my mum), despite having lived in the south for 30 odd years, maintained a cracking geordie twang. I miss it. I really, really miss it. Being surrounded by the accent is now half comfort, half heartache. I guess this will change in time.
A couple of posts ago, I told you about how one of my Paris weekend highlights happened just moments after the visit to the Amélie cafe. (If you are confused at this point, then you can always take a trip back to the first post to catch up!) Our gang were taking a stroll around Monmartre and heading for the Sacre Coeur. Buskers were playing outside the front of a gorgeous, little gallery; one man on his guitar and one man with his panda hat on. We stopped to listen and found ourselves starting to sway, to shoulder dance and to jig along to the music. We got so into it we started cheering (avec a few ‘whoop whoop’s), drawing more and more fellow tourists to join the audience. The shoulder dancing soon progressed to, what can only be described as, crazies dancing in the street.
We didn’t stop there. Oh, no. Beccy and Trent took to the stage as backing dancers and it was at this point that I found myself hysterical – unable to speak for crying so much. Important point – crying with laughter.
One song in particular featured a lot of, “AY AY AY” in the chorus. What made us laugh even more was that the buskers were so chuffed about the growing crowd, that they decided to do an extended version of this song. About TEN MINUTES later we all still seemed to be singing “AY AY AY”. Fair play, boys. I bought their album. Well, of course I had to after all of that. 10 Euros well spent, I say.
We found the rest of our gang and told them the tale of our musical moment, whilst enjoying a well earned mulled wine and admiring the incredible view from the Basilica.
Entertainment part deux of the day came at the bottom of the steps, where a man climbed up a lamp post whilst doing footy tricks and balancing all at the same time. He was super talented and after a bit of google action, one of the Paris Crew informed us that he was actually in the French version of Britain’s Got Talent. Which is probably France’s Got Talent. (It’s probably also in French.)
OK, so my plan of posting this on the train was ruined by a lack of wifi. I’m in a cafe now after seeing my Dad and sister, Sarah, who have driven up from Wimborne. First thing I said to Dad, “You look great, you’ve lost weight. You might need some new jeans because they are starting to look a little baggy”. The jeans are brand new, apparently. Oh dear.
Speak to you soon about a little story that happened near a tower named ‘Eiffel’……