In the Metro this morning, there was a “sans-abri” cuddling his dog as he slept. Very sad. In fact, there are more homeless, I’ve noticed, this trip than last, especially in the Cluny-La Sorbonne Metro station. There appear to be RATP security men who wake them later in the morning and, I think, see if they are all right. Sign of the times?

I have taken lately to sounding the station names along with the recordings on the trains. Roo’s fave is Franklin Roosevelt, long oooooo’s. In my mind, there is now playing “Direction Boulogne: le prochain train dans quatre minute, le suivant dans sept minutes.”

Our friend Deb arrived today but turns out, as Sandy discerned from not hearing any school children this morning across the street, that it’s another holiday (Pentecost or Whit, I think I read, and here I thought this is a secular state) although no one told us about it. It meant that my trek to the Postal Museum was for naught and our walk to the Musee d’Orsay was also for naught but it was otherwise a glorious day here.

Lunch at Le Cherche Midi (so-so Italian cuisine) but we needed the post-lunch stroll to walk off the Polaine apple tart. (As if…)

Went back to Semilla for dinner with another friend, Arthur and had a nice evening. Good food, good company. Even Cafe Laurent was closed.