Happy-crying in Paris

I do not usually happy-cry. You know, like when you're so overcome with love for the world and everything in it that you just well up and sob like Rylan Clark on X Factor in 2012? It's possible that the last time this happened to me prior to this weekend was when I woke up after a very boozy night out to find that Mikey had already ordered £42 worth of pizza. I'm pretty sure I happy-cried then. So please understand the gravity of the situation when I say that I happy-cried this weekend. I don't think I need to say it again but I will anyway for good measure; I really, really, really, really love Paris. 

St Tropez, France

There is one reason and one reason alone why Saint Tropez holds a special place in my heart: it was the first place I ever sampled the delectable delights of the creme brulĂ©e ice cream. Now we all know that good food is the key to my heart/pants/inheritance tax so you can rest assured, that this place ranks pretty highly on my freakin'-naughty list. Beautiful as it is though, this little hubbub on the south coast of France has an incredible habit of reminding me just how poor I really am. You kinda feel like you can't afford to look at some of the shops here. Like some sort of Gucci clad man in boat shoes and a jumper flung frivolously around his shoulders is gonna demand your current salary and politely suggest you return to Bognor Regis.

Ain't no rainbow without a little rain

Bleurgh. Bleurgh. BLEURGH. Yep that pretty much sums me up right now. Partly due to the ongoing inner turmoil of DO I OR DO I NOT TAKE A COAT / UMBRELLA / SKI BOOTS to work today because the damn weather can’t decide whether it’s coming, going, maybe leaving, possibly staying a bit later or not even bloody turning up at all.  And partly because, well, life is just a little bit shit sometimes isn't it? So in my most despondent yet actually incredibly poignant and reflective post yet, I leave you with photographs from a day of torrential downpour on my most recent holiday. Because you know what? You can't have a rainbow without a little rain.

I just bloody love France

I may have been born and bred in England but that doesn’t stop me thinking that, deep down, I was always destined to be a Frenchie.  Something about my yearning desire for Parisian rooftops, my insatiable love of croissants and the way I look at a macaron as if there is nothing else in the world makes me pretty damn adamant that I was swapped at birth.