steak au poivre, mussels in a big blue pot, my erik's opera ... conversations about life and art and politics so animated that random englishmen ask to join in ... teeny tiny crumbling montreuil sur mer with its pre-medieval ramparts so small the town can be crossed in minutes ... madame renard (in france she is hunted with only her cunning to protect her) who gives me corn flakes/croissant avec confiture/suc d'orange for breakfast and says my french is very good ... ideas for short stories springing to mind ... train times to arras and paris for tomorrow en suite i will board the night train to rome ...
but what the @?#! is this soreness in my throat???????
