Yesterday we went to Versailles which, in accordance with it's reputation was very impressive in its display of ostentatious wealth. These European palaces and cathedrals usually make me sympathize for the poor wretched serfs of that time that had to fund these projects. In France however, there was a resultant revolutionary sting in the tail.
At the end of the day my legs explained to me that they had had enough and wanted to go home. They were however shouted down by the senses who were enjoying themselves immensely, but a gruff voice from the tummy said "you should see what it is like in the engine room"!
When I awoke the next day, I found that the body had declared a general strike. I had to bring in the big yoga guns and only after a period of hard yoga was I able to restore order.
My Dad has once to explained to me that "a working ship is a happy ship" and so Fran and I decided to go on a slow walk around Montmartre. Our walk included a number of funky little streets and quaint squares where artists and other bohemians live and work, and we were beguiled into allowing one such soul to draw us in pastel - a clever artist who managed to make us look so much younger and then thought he could charge us the earth for the compliment!
You can see the flattering art work in the photo's on this website.