Le Glouton de Paris

I’ve just been to Paris for a four day long weekend with my husband. My astonishingly generous Mum looked after all four kids while we buggered off on a tour de cake romantic trip away.

I knew Rob was excited about going away because I found this on my iPhone. Our notes always sync to each others phones and we can’t work out how to turn it off. 

As it turns out he secretly planned to buy me some lingerie in Paris because he felt it was a sure way of getting some nookie. Men really don’t understand women.

Little did he know all it would have taken was buying me some of these babies. 

I’ve been to Paris before, but I was 23, young, stupid and very poor. So I didn’t appreciate the cake, or the shoes. Oh dear Lord, the shoes ..

Luckily for my Amex, they were closed

But back to the cake. I never used to be a sugar person but back in December I quit drinking and since then my sweet tooth has kicked in with a vengeance. My body obviously misses it’s alcohol sugars.

Now I could bore you with my other holiday snaps of iconic Parisian landmarks but I just can’t get past this damn cake.

Tiny boring overpriced painting.
So let’s talk more about cake then shall we?

While Rob was planning his next move and I was digesting my cake(s), he took me to the Pont des Arts, a bridge where couples put padlocks of love. I think he was trying to get me in the mood before he launched his own attack with the newly purchased bra and knickers.

When I wasn’t shoving the beforementioned cake in my cake hole I scoffed a few of these. I’ve always thought macarons were an overrated fad but have since changed my mind.

So all in all it was a fabulous trip of shopping, sight seeing, eating and a bit of action for the old hubster. And on our last day we lay with full bellies on the grass in the Jardin de Luxembourg, enjoying our last day of child-free’ness.

‘Are you my Mummy?’, ‘Hell no, I have plenty thanks’


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