In which nothing really happens except some sarcasm about Parisiennes and police bulldozers. Warning: old people sexual reference.

6:57pm

Some tourist cafe, cnr Rue du Bac, Quai Voltaire

I'm exhausted. I wanted to go up to Pont l'Alma to the Eiffel Tower and back before dinner, but it's getting late. I'm having a coffee (too expensive to eat here) and I'll see if I can walk up and Metro back, or else have dinner and hen Metro back. God only knows how I'll have the energy to go out tonight, I'll have to find somewhere nice and quiet to sit and people watch.

The coffee is f24. I hope the waiter doesn't hate me for counting it out in change because I want to use the bathroom.

7:36pm

Still on the road. Walking towards Hotel d'Invalides.

Filled with local pride, Parisiens spend an awful lot of time pashing in the street, in restaurants, on the Metro.

Even older Parisiens. Like the couple in front of me right now.

Especially in front of that most romantic symbol of passion, the Air France building on the Avenue de Breteuil.

I just saw a drama queenesque police bulldozer rushing to the Palais. Perhaps a really big dog did a giant poo and they have to move it off the footpath. I know I'm almost delerious with exhaustion because I think that's funny.