I’ve been meaning to read this for ages (such a familiar refrain); it has been glaring at me from the bookcase for a year or so. I started it last night – hot nights always make me not want to sleep – and finished it this morning.

It’s be Sarah Turnbull, documenting her life and experiences in Paris after moving in with a French man she hardly knows. Paris is one of the places in Europe I am least gagging to see. I am sure it is beautiful, and if/when I go I hope to enjoy it, but there are more interesting (to my mind) places to see – ones that are less likely to be full of rude people (according to the stereotypes). Some of the interactions Turnbull describes just reinforce this idea, like feeling pressure to dress your best because Parisians expect it, and having people be rude to her in the street (not necessarily an exclusively French or Parisian thing, of course). But some of her descriptions – like the gardens, the cafes, and some of the people – really do make me want to go there and experience it. Preferably with someone who knows the city and the language.

It also makes me glad I married someone whose language and culture was at least vaguely familiar and understandable, this side of techno stuff anyway.

What a surprise; all the babies died. I think this was hastened by the hot weather recently – I’ve had the light off in the tank for most of the week, trying to keep the temperature down; it is currently at 32.7C. Hopefully this will not weaken all of the other fishies too much.