What’s that you say?

O, did you say something then? What’s that? You want to know where I’m going at this early hour in the morning?

Well, I shall tell you. I am going to lunch.

Lunch, you say? Lunch? At this time in the morning? Why are you leaving the house at this time to go to lunch?

Well, the lunch, say I, the lunch takes a little while to get to. I must take a train to get to the lunch.

A train? A train at five to eight in the morning? Is it far away, this lunch?

O, not too far. Just two and a half hours.

For lunch, you ask. It must be somewhere nice.

Yes, it comes highly recommended by a friend, I tell you. The head chef is marvelous, the food fantastic. I am very excited.

Is it a place I’d know, you ask. This fantastic restaurant, will I have heard of it? Is it in London?

O no, say I. It is not in London. The restaurant is called L’Amie Jean. Have you heard of it? It’s out of London. It is, in fact, in Paris. Yes, did I mention that? Yes. Yes, it’s in Paris. I’m going for lunch, yes. Yes I am.

Because that’s the kind of girl I am. That’s just what I do, isn’t it? I’m always popping to gay Paree for a spot of luncheon (I’ve never done it before).

Yes, Paris is basically my second home (I’ve been twice, each time for about a day).

I’m always looking up the latest restaurants to dine at, national boundaries don’t get in my way (my manager told me about the restaurant and booked it for me).

And so, my dear readers, I am off! No January blues for me. In the words of Buzz Lightyear; “To Paris…. And beyond!” (Not really, I’m just coming back to London.)