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| Four of the Triplets |
Yesterday was another of those amazingly glamorous outings the Triplets are famous for. In case you are confused about terminology, this is understandable.
First there were J and I, the original Twins; then we added R and became the Triplets. Then last year we all met up with my good friend A who lives in Paris, and all got on so famously that we decided to make her the fourth Triplet. Then the Bearded Lefty (the Triplet standing to the left of J) joined the England-based Triplets and we became five Triplets. Since the words Quadruplets and Quintuplets are rather a mouthful, and everyone is confused about our group already, we decided to retain the Triplet label for ease of reference for our group.
Anyway, if Erich Kaestner can write about The Three Twins, I can blog about the Five Triplets. Get used to it. Life is complicated, and I see no reason to contract myself into a nutshell of linguistic conventionality to satisfy the overcritical segments of my readership.
As always when on a Tripletish outing, we had a great day. While my Twin and I met for a substantial breakfast at Le Pain Quotidian to lay a solid foundation for the day's walking, R and the BL took a little longer to arrive.....
At the gare du Nord we were collected by A, as always, and crowded into the Metro towards central Paris.
Lunch at the club, where the BL was graciously lent a tie and jacket, having under-dressed, was our first stop. We then inflicted ourselves on a scattering of slightly indignant - but noblesse obligedly tolerant - French better-class-looking denizens of the upper reaches of the club, which might best be described as Versailles-en-Miniature.
Having gazed at the gardens and admired the soft furnishings, we descended, yet again, to the poolside restaurant, where visitors without reservations and less than perfect attire can engorge themselves on the excellent buffet, while watching the sportier element of the club membership cavorting in the magnificent indoor/outdoor swimming pool.
That done, we trickled down the street to have hot chocolate and little Hamburger cookies (popularly referred to as 'macaroons') at Laduree. We were asked to wait for ten to fifteen minutes. I stiffened, since I hate queuing, but decided to endure the wait for the greater good (ie A's overwhelming greed for Laduree' hot chocolate, which is thick enough to stand a spoon in - A's equivalent to R's mugs of industrial-strength tea).
After 45 minutes I asserted myself and we left, and for the next twenty minutes or so I muttered crankily about the benefits of staying at clubs, where there were no queues, excellent service, and superior tuck, always provided one wore a jacket and tie.
We then meandered about aimlessly, window shopped, invaded the old tile factory area, and generally took in the air and enjoyed being in Paris. Finally we drifted into a standard, typically Parisian watering hole, where we finally had our hot chocolate and treated ourselves to crepes with Nutella, except for R, who suddenly went all over upper class and insisted on Creme Brulee. She was served a huge dish with about three times the usual amount of vanilla creme topped with a thick sugar crust - ie a lower class portion. They all know what we are!
The last stop was, as always, a little supermarket around the corner of the Gare du Nord, where we stocked up - I on Marrons Glaces, R on cheese, and J and the BL on crisps and Orangina for the return journey.
The homeward Eurostar journey was uneventful. While I strove to educate my fellow travellers with a two-hour-long seminar on the social life of bacteria, they dropped in and out of sleep, much to my consternation, since they had been up for barely 12 hours and were 30 years my junior. I had expected a little more vitality!
But there it is, youth isn't what it once was, the human species is deteriorating, and it will all end in extinction. Except of course for bacteria ....
Despite the excessive sleepiness of the other Triplets it had been a very successful day, and when we split up upon arrival at St Pancras we all agreed that it had been another simply monumental Tripletish occasion.
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| The Hermes shop is just opposite the club, so I usually photograph their flag-waving Rooftop rider |
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| The shops were festively bedecked, and featured curious merchandise, like these shoes |
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| and this handbag |
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| Louis Vuitton added a huge sun to its store |
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| BJ performed a dangerously avant garde street dance to spite the luxury retailer |
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| Spider brooche |
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| Frog ornament |
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| Jellyfish earrings, much admired by R |
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| Owl earrings, Ithink |
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| The old tile factory is always worth a visit |
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| There were lots of crows in the Tuileries |
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| Having lost his fig-leaf, he buried his face in his hand, overcome by shame |
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| There is some sort of lizard up on this tree |
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| Always such a pleasure to see this with the scaffolding removed |
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| Full of crepes and hot chocolate |
