We honeymooned in Paris. It was winter time and very cold, but it was still beautiful. When I say cold, I mean it was extremely cold, brutal, so much so that if you couldn’t see the frost glinting on something like the inside of a mine that’s been “salted” with gold dust by a conman, it was because it was already covered in ice. Nearly everywhere we attempted to visit, variations of the same sign were up. Fermées à causede la glace – closed because of the ice.

It was so bad, my beautiful young bride’s hip started to freeze, and there I was struggling around Île de la Cité to show her Notre Dame with someone on my arm who from a distance could be mistaken for Quasimodo’s sister limping along beside me. Keep going Esmeralda, if we can reach the cathedral, you’ll get some heat, never mind sanctuary.


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