Paris

Walked to Pere Lachaise cemetary and found Oscar Wilde's tomb,

which was covered with lipstick kisses, and Jim Morrison's tiny plot.

The place was gloomy, but with atmospheric avenues of trees.

Detritus includes twig suitable for temporary stylus (including fitting in the carrying slot) after a little whittling by handy Swiss tool. There was rain on the wind and I was feeling rough so headed back to the hotel (Flor Rivoli, Rue Deux Boules, a basic place to crash near the center of Paris) for siesta. Discover that the feeling of irritation by my big toe is a now raw blister. Ugh!

After the siesta, I wandered up the Rue St Martin past Jospin's abandoned campaign HQ, to République, then to the canal and up to Stalingrad, across to Sacre Coeur, down through Montmartre to the Louvre, then the Trappiste again for supper. It very conveniently offers salads as well as beer, so I had a salade Ardennaise with a Leffe brune, then fromage blanc with raspberry coulis and a frambozen lambic. By now it was about 8pm, and a cheer went up all around the place when the TV showed the projection of 17.9% for le Pen! Had another Rodenbach, and so to bed while Paris partied in the rain.