London

I've been living in London just over a year now and would like to know why postmen's trolleys are dotted around the city, usually looking abandoned, at the top of hills. Is this the point where they quit their jobs? Who should answer me? The London Mayor, yes he'll do. And while you're there Boris, why are cars in this city becoming smaller and boxier and resembling more and more Enid Blyton's vision of toytown? There they are plugged in on rich people's drives.

I admit my car sits largely neglected near my flat, but I'm loath to get rid of it; we've had some good times, my car and me. Besides it used to belong to my Grandad and it's nice to see it outside of a morning. I take it for a drive once a week so it doesn't feel too neglected.

London is going by bus or tube to an unexplored part of the city, to meet a friend at a pub, or a street or a station, and spending forever trying to find them. Then there's the getting back across the city, getting on a late night tube alone, sitting in a carriage with other people sitting alone, making the weary journey home. 

I miss the randomness of smaller places. It's so rare you bump into someone you know.

Walking up a hill and stumbling upon a familiar object; another postman's red trolley. Are the letters still inside, Boris? One day I'll stop for a breather and find myself an interesting letter to read. Then I'll write them a letter back and ask them to meet me.

Paris

A few weeks ago I went to Paris. With only two french phrases to hand, 'La Sange est dans l'arbre' and 'bonjour mon petite bureau de change' I managed to make it from Gare du Nord to Montmatre, buying both a pain au chocolate and tickets for the Metro. The Metro only went part way, I was heading for Abbessess, remembering that stop from Amelie, but someone had thrown themselves on the line and the train only went part way. Recalling that Montmatre was up a hill, I left the Metro and made my way uphill, until I saw the Sacre-Coeur shimmering in the afternoon sun. I got myself food -I ran away from the first food place because I didn't want the people in the queue to hear my awful french- and sat on the steps of the Sacre-Coeur looking over at Paris. The Eiffel tower was hidden from view. Then I managed to make my way to Montparnasse to meet my friend Richard, where from then on, I let him do all the talking to order food, drinks and train tickets.

This is a picture of Richard in the Louvre approaching the Venus de Milo, a place whose courtyard we walked around for twenty minutes looking for the entrance, before finally realising, after watching people coming from the ground like ants, you entered via the glass pyramid. I'm sure I will forget this again next time. Rumours that before Richard walked up this corridor, the Venus de Milo had both arms are unfounded.

Attacked by punctuation marks

Part of my job - proofing for the FSA website has been taking its toll. I have to obssess over punctuation and missing words and capital letters, while ambulances race past on their way to save lives. Last week I spotted the word 'within' missing from a sentence. A wonderful moment for industry.

On my way home I stopped at the greengrocer's to buy tomatoes. When I left the shop and looked in the brown bag there wasn't a tomato in sight; it was full of semi-colons. At home I try to read a book and all the words jumble up and dare me to make sense of them. I look in the mirror to brush my hair to find my hair is sitting on top of a giant comma.

At night I dream I am proofing but I can't read any of the words. The dream changes, it becomes lighter and calmer. I'm in the church, this is more like it, I'm getting married. I turn to kiss the bride, lift the veil, only to realise I've married a full stop.

And no, I'm not going to proof this blog.