Salut! is on the move.
Surrounded by cartons stuffed with millions of folk CDs, football
fanzines and books on everything from the French revolution to the
history of badminton, we bid farewell to Paris.
Specifically, it is adieu to the rue de Rivoli, our grand if not very
homely home for the past two-and-a-half years. Part of the magnificent
view from the living room is captured inexpertly here (where's Bill
when you need him?).
Tomorrow, we will pass the busy little Mediterranean town of Hyères -
which really has nothing much to do with this except that I couldn't
resist the title - on the final approach to Le Lavandou and a new life
there.
There is little time between filling in insurance forms and supervising
the removal of our belongings to say much more, and there is also
little need.
But what will I tell my neighbour Jacques Chirac? Despite our ups and
downs, the president has gamely invited me back to the Elysée for the New Year's drinks reception he throws for journalists each January.
This, we can safely assume, will be his last such voeux,
and it looks as if I shall be among absentees.
And the loss of presidential office will mean that the Chiracs will
also no longer be our neighbours in the Var, since their holiday home
at, the Fort de Brégançon, goes with the job. But somehow I feel our
paths will cross again.
I'll be back here soon enough once we've settled in, with reflections
on what I will and will not miss about Paris. In the meantime, I will
lift France in Flashes near the top of the blog in case the more recent
additions inspire further comment.
Labels: badminton, Elysée, folk music, French revolution, Jacques Chirac, Le Lavandou, moving, Paris, president, rue de Rivoli, Var
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