9th Century English bishop who earned a reputation as the weather prophet.
“Cool, look a military parade!” I exclaimed.
“Kramer? Those aren’t military, those are riot police.”
Some kind of party, huh?
The fireworks? Not that it was ever on my list of “things to do in a lifetime,” but Paris on Bastille Day sure is fun one, even if I did luck into this by pure chance and an odd twist of the fates.
Purple Shirt:
Vote, six out of six, the shirt isn’t any good for Paris. That vote? And the tasteful shirt? It was hilarious.
That one cup of coffee. I was trying to recall, was the place called Titan, Atlas, or Mercury? Sounds like names of American rockets, at least, that was my reference.
We stopped so the Pisces could rest her feet, and had post-fireworks drink. Some had lemon sorbet mixed with vodka. I had a crepe. Plain crepe. That Pisces had deep-fried ice cream. I had a dish of coffee, perhaps the most perfect cup of coffee I’ve ever seen.
