Gay Pareee!

The journey to Paris from Cambridge was a lot quicker than London to Cambridge, and a lot more comfortable - I slept on Mum and Dad most of the way. We caught the train down with Aunty Loz, Geoff and Noah, but I was too busy sleeping to really enjoy their company. We arrived at our beautiful apartment in the Marais district and I soon made myself comfortable.

We spent the first day walking, walking everywhere. Mum and Dad aren't very good at reading guide books, so they took us to the Pompidou centre which was closed on Tuesdays...

Then past the Louvre. You guessed it - closed on Tuesdays.

Mum and Dad weren't phased though - they just wanted to walk and soak in the Parisian atmosphere. Here's me and Mum in the gardens near the Louvre. Gee Dad's a great photographer.

Here's me eating some lunch. You'll notice it's a squeezy pack. I got into these in England. I now eat anything as long as it's fruit and I can suck on it. (Oh risque!)

Home cooked vegetables - Lewis says 'Non'. Vegetables in jars - Lewis says 'Non'. Vegetables in tubes - 'Absolutement pas'. Mum: 'Oui, Oui, Oui'. Me: 'Non, Non, Non!' Guess who wins? So at the moment I'm living on bread, avocado, banana and fruity baby food. I'm considering life as a fruitarian.

Here is me sporting Mum's sunglasses which are now Dad's sunglasses. He forgot his and Mum bought herself a shiny new pair. Dad looks like a girl with them on, while I look a bit like Elton.

Then a promenade on the Champs Elysees (I screamed until they carried me... suckers!). In the background you can see the Arc d'Triomphe.

Some things don't translate well over here. When the French get drunk, they don't get hangovers, they get a Very Bad Trip...

... And when English speakers attend the public lavatories, we ask ourselves 'Big flush or little flush?'. The French, on the other hand, must consider the question 'Debit Important?', the literal translation of which is 'Important delivery?'.

The quirkiness of the French aside, we finally made it to the Arc d'Triomphe. It was pretty cool. We couldn't go to the top of the Arc because of the pram/step factor, but we had a great view from down below.

Under the Arc is the resting place of the Unknown Soldier. An eternal flame, refueled every day, is at the head of his grave. Despite first appearances, this is not it ...

I'm such a Francophile, the pram isn't just uncomfortable it's 'passe'. Now I ride on Mum's back, while she sings a stupid song about horses and jumps around.

A smooth ride home. Finally back at the apartment, I stripped off for a shower (all that walking is sweaty work) and people-watching from the balcony. Mum and Dad would later regret the nappy free time, as I had an important delivery to make. Thank God for floorboards.

All in all, a great day!