Paris means… going to work on a Saturday in wet underwear

Still in Paris! The project’s going well if involving a few too many late nights, and after skipping the flight yesterday I’m also missing an MBA rock climbing session back at Warwick which, er, I organised (thanks for taking over K.) It’s odd just how disorganised the best-organised week can become.

Take this week. There are three things I never travel without: my pegless clothesline, my sheet sleeping bag, and a Silva compass. (When your sense of direction is as bad as mine you need to know which way you’re facing.) I used to include my 12″ survival knife in this list, but airlines tend to object to those these days, so I take a Leatherman instead. From North American bus stations to nights in the Egyptian desert, I’ve never been without some means of sleeping or the option of clean clothes.

However, you don’t expect to need such things when you’re booked into a decent hotel all week, and having a proper bed for a change meant I neglected my backpacking basics. So… at midnight I had nowhere to hang hastily-handwashed laundry and ended up wearing wet stuff this morning. Urgh.

However, I have one final task when this day’s done (probably late again): I’ve booked a cheap sleep tonight in Paris itself, forcing me to visit Paris proper at least once before my flight leaves tomorrow. I WILL get to see the Ile de la Cite this trip…. the pointy bit at one end where you can look out over the Seine, lights of the city all around you. About one metre square, it’s one of my favourite places in the world. But it’s been one hell of an effort.

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