I couldn't possibly walk anymore....

Paris always has that effect on me. I remember one of my first trips to the city, we had walked so much during the day and somehow forgotten to eat (I know, in Paris, how is that possible?), so upon arrival at our restaurant that evening, as I was making my way to the toilettes, I passed out. Right in the middle of all the other diners, passed out cold. Embarrassing to say the least but you'd think it would have taught me a lesson.

But no. Whenever I go to Paris, even if I have a carnet of metro tickets in my pocket, I always think, 'oh, it's just a couple of blocks away', and proceed to walk until I can't feel my feet anymore. And it doesn't matter what kind of shoes I'm wearing either, although I do tend to keep the heels for the evening now.

Couple all the walking with the 4 hour train ride home and I'm reminded of being heavily pregnant in the middle of summer and wondering who the hell the fat ankles and swollen feet belonged to.

I had a great weekend, managed to fit alot in and still have quiet, lazy moments sitting in cafes and people watching. Once I tackle the small Matterhorn of laundry that has sprung up in my absence, I'll fill you in....