Didn’t feel like going to the gym this morning so we hung around the apartment.

Tried to log onto computer this morning to finish some work but couldn’t; very frustrating, so read the papers, did the crossword instead.

We had heard about a particular Thai restaurant for some time but having failed to get a reservation, left it until a few days ago when finally someone answered the phone. So, that’s how we ended up going to Krung Thep, 93, rue Julien Lacroix, in the 20th arr. Getting there, just off rue Belleville, was easier than getting into the tables, essentially requiring a contortionist, but reasonably good Thai cuisine.

The Art Saint-Germain-des-Prés open house was still going on so we wandered around the area some more, learned much about Francis Picabia from one dealer, had a type of character analysis done by a Lebanese-Italian-French jewellery-designer in the area where we stopped for a bit of shopping, swung by the odd, little Musée des Lettres & Manuscripts, 8, rue des Nesle, www.museedeslettres.fr, (entrée libre aujourd’hui) and partook of a late afternoon drink at the busy, smoky (even outside), snotty La Palette, 43, rue de Seine (“Le Météor biére n’en plus!“) and way too cool for us (me, anyway).

Having bought some provisions at Gilles Vérot,* Charcuterie Tradition, 3, rue Notre-Dames-des-Champs, we stayed home, thought about going to a movie around the corner but called it an early night.

*This is what Pudlowski, the food critic, says about this place: “…specialist in foie gras, pâté, slow-roasted pork chunks and truffle-studded cooking sausage, as well as white or black boudin, Troyes-style or Norman-style andouilette, chicken liver terrine and pike quenelle. His head cheese will make your mouth water.” Apart from having no idea what half this stuff actually is, I can only say the French do love their food.