RUE MOUFFETARD

Boucherie Saint-medard were loading fresh pullets into the vertical BBQ as I made my way up Rue Mouffetard.  Earlier roasted offerings gave off a tantalising odour as the small potatoes cooking in the BBQ's basement absorbing the succulent fat dripping from the loaded racks above.

Sunshine bathed the tables at Delmas cafe bar in Place de la Contrescarpe as Aretha and Annie blasted out "Sisters are doing it for themselves" at Garston that proffered burgers and bieres.  The small central fountain gushed enthusiastically as I made my way back down Rue Mouff.

My €1.25 baguette from the boulanger pattissier lost it's crunchy end before I exited, and I realised the insects flying about the pastries were not flys but wasps just wanting to indulge in some sugar sweetness.  Kim has been thirsting for a cuppa so milk was on my shopping list. Lait demi-ecreme is so much more enticing than the light milk we are used to. The plastic lid once removed revealed a foil cap linking Paris with childhood milk consumption.

As we retraced our steps post midday, a fair imitation of Serge Gainsborough strummed a guitar and sang a plaintive chanson to a lost amour.  His passion would have been authentic if the strumming hand hadn't gripped a lit fag.  Imitation of French cinema icons is rife this summer and I approvingly remarked "smart" to a dude in a double breasted suit replete with two tone brogues and a Borsolino hat.  A tourist wearing aviator shades nonchalantly adjusted his new maroon beret whilst observing the passing parade at a St Germain brasserie.

We lunched at the renown L'as Du Fallafel in Rue Des Rosieres in the Jewish quarter where unsurprisingly falafel is on the menu once you have joined the queue.  Alicia is of two minds believing mi-va-mi opposite shades it.  Our dining table ~ a nearby ivy covered window shelf, gave us opportunity to observe a group of young Hassidic Jews.  They all wore black suits and broad rimmed hats except for one young guy wearing a yarmulka and a Guns and Roses t-shirt.  His deep voice indicated his bar mitzvah was not too far off.

Touring Paris on foot is a treasure trove of awaited experiences, often surprisingly. Short bursts of warm heat frequently brush your ankles as you traverse Paris.  Alternatively odorous drain water may pool in your cuffs if you stand too close to a downpipe!  By the end of the day the toes of my suede loafers exhibited the tell-tale evidence of a visit to the Tuileries.