Friday, May 27, 2011

Monday evening in Paris

It must be 85°F out, and it's only mid-May. The lawn at the Jardin de Reuilly park (at least I think that's what it's called. The one at the end of the elevated Promenade Planté in the 12 arrondissment of Paris) is covered with people sunning. A green beach.
The blinding flesh!
We're not prepared for this.
They can't believe their good luck here in Paris. It's like being in the south, without having to battle all day on the freeway to get there. In Clermont as well, the city-dwellers are rejoicing, lingering with a coke or a mint-perrier at the sidewalk cafés.
Those with gardens, however, are noticing in a different way. The warm, dry weather means watering. Watering all the time. A mile further from town, and the farmers are clearly worried. Fine days, too many fine days when we should be only just coming out of the wet season. The grass isn't growing.
Aside from the exceptional weather, the subject of every headline and heard from every café table is DSK.
It must all be a setup
How could he be so stupid
Shock at the American police
(but haven't you all seen it on tv a thousand times? did you think it was all made up?)
Whatever will we do now to beat Sarko?
More incredulity
How could he have so little class?
and back to the beginning.
I'm embarrassed to go out to dinner.
I'd be more at ease with friends, but around the table, colleagues who, like me, came to Paris for the colon cancer meeting, and are staying for the breast cancer meeting tomorrow.
It's my left hand, mostly. I pitted kilos and kilos of cherries over the weekend, for jam and for freezing, and halved kilos more for drying. My fingertips are deeply stained with cherry juice. Wherever the cuticles are gnawed, every scratch, deep under the nails, is dark, dirty. I can't get it all off.

But whatever. At least in Paris there isn't ice in my kir.


jabblog said...

Bleach might help!
As for DSK, it seems he's getting what's been coming for a long, long time. How can his WIFE have so little class??

Bagman and Butler said...

I think that your fingertips might start a new fashion style. I wonder what happened to the Friday shootout? No Linky today.

NanU said...

Rather have dirty-looking fingers than use bleach on them, Jab. I'll live.
Ah, the Shootout. It just wasn't the same after Barry died. For me, it's run its course. Perhaps they need some turnover in the administering dept (that job gets old!) That's one reason I decided the Poetry Jam would give authorship to all the cooks - they can add the link themselves.

Titus said...

Lemon skins!
First, suck flesh out of a halved lemon, then use useful expression arrived at to talk about DSK; finally rub inside of lemon remains over hands. If it doesn't work, at least you've got a fruit cocktail.

Though sorry for the waterers, I envy you the weather.

steven said...

meteorological and political heat arrive side-by-side at the dinner table. cherry stained fingers become the centre of attention. i wonder if they might think you did something really bad!! steven