Monday, March 11, 2002

So, just why is there this attitude that going to France is a jolly? Springtime in Paris does sound like fun, but when it's translated into a crowded rushed journey to the grimy outskirts of an industrial quarter, stuffed in a room, negotiating multi-lingually, with economy flights at unsociable hours at each end of the trip and only the most basic of buffet hospitality food, then, suddenly, staying at one's own desk in one's own (not very quiet) corner seems more desirable than usual. The gym was fun, even falling off the step between the activity area and the reclining audience bit (but I just laughed it off as an unscheduled exercise). Never have I been so grateful for a small sip of water.

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