Nothing Ventured, No-one Pained...

Dragging oneself out of bed at 5am (ish) to set forth on a month-long study programme seems a self-punishing way to go about things. Really, one should have a limo pick one up at a decent hour and be conveyed to parts foreign on a cloud of candyfloss, but these things are so difficult to arrange at short notice. On three hours of sleep, I washed in running water (thus ensuring that I would be ritually pure come sunset) and Mary and I set off.

We parked some way from the terminal building to start with, a problem compounded by the need to walk the length of that building, out the other end and into terminal two. Naturally the gates were back in the other building. Glasgow Airport has grown since last I was there. Mary was concerned.

"Do you think the flight was so cheap because we're walking there?"

I had wanted to opt for priority boarding given my current mobility, but without the proper diagnoses and actually needing a wheelchair. it seemed petty. Nevertheless, I thought I might as well ask. I was given a brief lecture on how I "should have told them at the gate" in a not-very-helpful tone, but she still let us go through with the priority line, which was nice. I was a bit taken aback by the tone. However, I decided to be really nice and voice my appreciation, which made me feel pretty good which made me feel pretty shallow which made me feel like I should stop reflecting upon it. We agreed that it was worth asking, especially when we got to go straight to the back of the plane and ended up with three seats to ourselves.

We were just settling in and getting our bags into the overhead compartments when we heard the announcement,
"Good morning ladies and gentlement and welcome to this Easyjet flight to London Luton..."
I looked at Mary and said, "Luton?" I was a bit confused. "I hope that's a mistake."
"Ohh!" came a cry from behind me. "Paris! We're going to Paris!" [tannoy crackles back on] "Sorry, ladies and gentlemen; this is of course our flight to Paris Charles-de-Gaulle..."

Flight was fairly uneventful apart from a very nice member of the cabin crew stepping on my foot while I was dozing and discovering that the hand soap in the loo moonlighted as a moisturiser and an air freshener.

We had taken our time getting off the plane and after watching everyone else rush past in a flurry of "me-first", it was somewhat satisfying to find that everyone had been loaded on to a bus and was now waiting for us, when, naturally we would also be the first off the bus. First signs of the Parisian attitude in the tarmac director guy who waved off passengers dismissively as if they were ready to accost him at the first opportunity. Magic.

After a smooth taxi-run in, we arrived at our flat which, while the settee covers and bits of the kitchen could be cleaner, will do us quite nicely. After a few failed attempts to get the internet working, we discovered that all you need (apart from love) is a single successful attempt. Encouraged, we struck forth in search of food, both being quite hungry by that point. We staggered reasonably cheerfully down a main food and shopping street behind us before collapsing even more gratefully into an ambiguously Turkish establishment for a sandwich grec (me) and a panini. Best food ever. We admitted that we'd both had cold feet about the whole thing - the past few weeks being ever so stressful - but really felt we had to get on with it. Now that we're here we seem to have perked up with the excitement and the change of scenery!

Wandering the rue Daguerre:

Looks like there are quite a number of appealing places to eat around here, and a local 8 a huit (supermarket). Mary and the proprietor are already great friends, and we think he lived in Scotland for a year. Small world, Paris.

[pics to come]