Last night ended with me on a stage singing Edith Piaf in a flaming gay karaoke bar in which I call the bartender mademoiselle and he calls me monsieur.
Sushi and wandering Paris in the rain, talk of too many small things and a few petty ones.
Pierre is still out cold in his bed, it's seven o'clock in the morning, and I'm off to catch a train to the countryside for a couple of days.
To meet the parents.
And it seems that my biggest worry about sharing a household with Cristal, the difference in our musical tastes, might not be so great after all.
She loves techno, and I'm trying to learn about it.
It's a beginning.
One that we'll discuss while the farmlands swoosh by in the misty morning rain.
See you Thursday.