I've got another three flat viewings. I need to be more systematic about this flat hunting malarky. The website got all glitchy on me, so I decided three appointments was enough for today. Then I looked at appointment no.1. I've written the address down and the phone number, but what agency is it? How much is the rent? What arrondissment is rue Constance in? Oh dear! So then I decided to whack another story up on The Pimple Continued. It was written last year on the train from St. Malo back to Paris.
The journey to St. Malo had been a bit frought. I may have mentioned I'm not one for time keeping so I arrived at Montparnasse ten minutes before the train was due to leave. I charged up the stairs spotted a guy sitting on his rucksack just about to spark up and walked with complete determination towards him. "Est ce que je peut avoir du feu?" I asked my hand already extended expecting the lighter, the cigarette in the other hand. "Wow, you know what you want." He commented as he handed me the lighter. Then I began my march across the concourse to the platform no.21. My phone was buzzing like an angry fly in my pocket as Jane panicked that I would miss the train.
As I tossed my cigarette away and climbed on board it was four minutes before the train was due to pull out. I settled down and it was then that I realised that the journey was five hours, there was no buffet car on the train, I was starving and I had no water! But I had a lighter. I had texted Jane from the metro when I had realised that I was missing one and like a complete star she had bought me one!
It was sometime during those two days as we sat staring at the kitesurfers whizzing across the water, or walking along the city walls, or when we were in hysterics about my button and bird phobia that I realised something about me; I was enormously relieved.
And yes I did say button phobia, I'll tell you about it one day, but that's another post.