#I say this as if I don’t have Eurostar to paris booked for next weekend but like

[6ebe]

how I feel desperately trying to escape the Uk rn and any return flight anywhere is minimum £200 bc it’s July

[remedialpotions]

Off The Train

Thanks to @mertronus for tagging me in the HPRomione Discord Popcorn game thingy! The prompt she gave me was: "I can finally see you."

I'm tagging @acnelli with the prompt: "You can't just keep pretending things are fine!"

***

”I can’t wait until you get off that train,” says Ron, his voice low and lazy with fatigue, “and I can finally see you.”

Hermione shifts in her bed so she’s lying on her side, mirror held out before her. This way, she can pretend - if she squints a bit, and ignores the crimson hangings of her four-poster bed - that he’s lying next to her, and not hundreds of miles away in London.

“What do you mean, ‘finally’?” Hermione, too, keeps her voice quiet. It won’t do, in her final days as Head Girl, to be waking her dormmates. “You’re looking at me right now.”

“Yeah, but it’s not the same. I can see you, but I can’t touch you, or...” The corner of Ron’s mouth twitches up into a crooked smile. “Or do anything else for that matter.”

“Right. Well,” she says, trying to infuse positivity into her voice, despite the weeks since the Easter holidays dragging into what felt like months and years, despite missing him so much that it’s like a heavy fog surrounding her. “It’s only a couple more days, right?”

“Can’t it be now?” Ron looks like he’s reclined in bed too now, his fiery hair stark against the deep navy of his sheets. “Just get to Hogsmeade, then you can Apparate-“

“You know full well that I cannot,” she replies briskly, even though it’s tempting, really tempting. “It’s-“

“-behavior unbecoming of a Head Girl,” Ron finishes her sentence. “I know. I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too.”

“I love you,” he adds after a moment’s silence, before his eyes widen with inspiration. “Oh, I’ve got it. What if I Apparate to Hogsmeade, and then walk to the castle - I bet Hagrid would let me through the gates-“

“It’s only two days, Ron.”

He sighs. “Fine.”

“And I love you too.”

He grinned. “Yeah, I know.”

•••

Pigwidgeon is the last owl to fly into the Great Hall, his little wings beating wildly to keep him aloft. With a scrap of parchment clutched in his tiny talons, he struggles over to the Gryffindor table before somersaulting down into Hermione’s lap.

Hermione’s heart sinks, and not just at the sight of the exhausted little bird currently burrowing into the crook of her elbow. Their two-way mirrors mean they don’t usually have to resort to writing letters. Not unless...

Hermione, the parchment reads when she unfolds it. Got called on an emergency mission. I’m not allowed to tell you where or why or even how long but I’m hoping it won’t take too long. I’m still going to be there at King’s Cross, because I’m dying to see you and I can’t wait until all this is over and we can just be together. Anyway, I love you and try not to worry too much. I promise to do my best not to die.

Ron

“Oh, good,” comes Ginny’s voice from beside her, and Hermione turns to see her peering intently at the parchment. “He’s promised not to die, that’s a relief-“

“He’ll be there,” interrupts Hermione, tucking the note in the pocket of her robes before Ginny can further infringe upon her privacy. “If he thinks it’ll only take a day, then I believe him.”

Ginny blinks. “I never said he wouldn’t be.” Plucking Pigwidgeon from Hermione’s lap, she offers him water from her goblet. “I’m sure he knows what he’s talking about.”

“It’s probably just a quick day trip,” Hermione rationalizes, eyes focused hard on Pigwidgeon as he drinks so she doesn’t have to see the sympathy she knows is etched on Ginny’s face, “and he just wanted me to know in case - well-”

“In case he dies?”

Ginny’s attempt at a joke falls flat.

“Well, just in case, you know, something were to - to happen,” Hermione stammers, “and anyway, it’s just good for me to know - I like to know what he’s up to - not in a controlling way or anything, just-”

“Of course,” Ginny interjects bracingly. “I’m sure he just wanted you to know, that’s all. I’m sure he’ll be there.”

Hermione picks up her mug of tea and holds it close to her face so the steam washes over her. She knows what they’re both thinking but are unwilling to say: that in the year Ron and Harry have been Aurors, neither has had a mission run shorter than a week.

•••

And so Hermione sits with Ginny and Luna on the train, watching the Scottish Highlands slowly transform into the low, tidy hills of the English countryside outside her window and hoping against hope that Ron will be there on Platform 9 and ¾. But she hasn’t heard from him since that first letter, and his mirror has gone dark. This doesn’t worry her - not for his safety, anyway - but it does make it difficult to share in Ginny’s gleeful anticipation as the train pulls into King’s Cross.

She busies herself with tending to Crookshanks, who is furious about his prolonged confinement in his basket, as Harry and Ginny embrace on the platform. It’s not that she’s upset, not really. Ron is doing what he needs to do, and she would never want him shirking his responsibilities just so he can kiss her on a train platform for the first time since April. She just wishes things could be different.

After Harry and Ginny depart for Grimmauld Place, she flags down a taxi and rides alone to her parents’ home. The family car is parked in front, which is unusual for a weekday, but when she goes inside, she finds her parents have been eagerly awaiting her arrival and can hardly let her set down her trunk before whisking her away to an upscale restaurant in South Kensington.

“So, tell us about school,” says Mum with an eager smile once they’re seated at their candlelit table. “How were your exams? I want to hear everything.”

“I will later,” Hermione replies, raising her brows and tipping her head pointedly in the direction of the waiter currently pouring red wine into their glasses.

“Oh, right, right, of course. Well, anyway, dear,” she begins as the waiter sets down menus and strides away, “your father and I have a little surprise for you.”

It’s foolish, she knows, but her mind leaps instantly to Ron. Maybe all of this business with his mission has been a ruse, and he’s here in London after all, and she’ll be able to come up with an excuse to spend the night at Grimmauld Place…

Until she notices that her parents are still talking, and there’s no tall, lanky, red-haired wizard to be seen in this high-end French restaurant, but there are three Eurostar boarding passes laid out across the tablecloth.

“Sorry,” says Hermione, shaking her head to clear away the daydream, “what’s going on?”

“We’re going to Paris!” announces Mum with delight. “We thought it would be so lovely to spend time together since you’ve been away for so long, and you’re about to start your new job - and I know you’ve always wanted to go there. We’ve got ten whole days, and everything’s booked, so all you’ve got to do is pack.”

“That - that’s - that’s brilliant,” Hermione musters, forcing her lips into some semblance of a smile. Her parents beam so brightly back that it’s almost difficult to look at them. “Erm, so when are we leaving?”

She crosses her fingers under the table, praying they’ll say August, or her birthday in September, or Christmas, anything but-

“This weekend!”

Of course.

•••

Paris is beautiful. It exceeds every single one of Hermione’s expectations. She and her parents consume copious amounts of bread, cheese and wine, they visit museums and cafes and old bookstores, they ascend to the top of the Eiffel Tower and take in the view. She thinks of Ron constantly as she walks the cobbled streets, as she crosses the Pont des Artes and sees the countless locks affixed to its railing. Before she left, she sent Harry an owl to tell him that she was leaving, so Ron would know where she was if he returned home before she did. As they can’t communicate when she’s staying in a Muggle hotel, she truly has no idea where he is, but she tells herself that he’s still on his mission. It feels better that way, imagining that even if she stayed in London, there would still be obstacles keeping them apart.

On their last day, she nearly empties out a patisserie buying eclairs and macarons for Ron, and then they board the Eurostar back to England. Nervous anticipation grips her stomach as the train barrels through the tunnel (idly, she wonders if Ron’s dad is aware of this train that travels underwater, and makes a mental note to tell him), because she has no idea what awaits her back in London. What if Ron’s still away? Or worse - what if something’s happened to him, and she’s been off enjoying a holiday while he’s been suffering?

The train can’t move quickly enough. Hermione can focus on nothing - not the paperback romance novel her mother has loaned her to read, not the Muggle newspaper that her father is engrossed in, not even the argument of the couple seated across the aisle from them. It’s only a two-hour trip, so why does it feel like it’s taking days?

She checks her mirror, but it’s still dark.

“You go ahead, sweetheart,” says Dad when the train finally rolls to a stop in St. Pancras station. “We’ll get the cases.”

Hermione looks up at the luggage rack over their heads, then at her parents. “Are you sure? I’ll bring mine-”

“We can manage. Go on ahead, get some fresh air.”

She doesn’t bother reminding them that train station air is hardly fresh, and instead heads down the aisle with just her purse and the box of pastries in tow. Truly, she’s not sure why her parents have sent her off the train without them; with the station as busy as it is, they’ll surely lose track of each other.

But then she sees him. Standing a head above the crowd, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans, his bright blue eyes scan the throngs of travelers. At first, she doesn’t believe her eyes. Surely, she’s just become so desperate to see him that she’s actually begun hallucinating.

But as she draws closer, he doesn’t ripple into nothingness, he doesn’t fade away. He’s really, truly there, his red hair curling behind his ears, one knee jiggling with pent-up energy the way it always does when he’s particularly impatient. As he turns his head, still surveying the crowd, their eyes lock and the rest of the station recedes into the background. Finally, they’re within sight of each other after months of hushed mirror conversations and stolen moments borrowing Professor McGonagall’s Floo. Hermione picks up speed, nearly skipping across the concrete in her haste, and flings herself into his waiting arms.

She fits against him perfectly. The fabric of his faded t-shirt is soft against her cheek as she breathes him in, and for the first time in recent memory, words fail her completely.

The box of pastries thuds to the ground.

“Hi,” he mutters, lips brushing her skin and sending chills up her spine.

“How - how did you-”

“Harry told me where you’d gone.” He presses a kiss to her cheek, and then, at long last, their lips connect. “It’s not that hard to look up train schedules.”

As reluctant as she is to pull away from him, she leans back just enough to look up at him. Behind the freckles scattered across his face, his cheeks have gone pink. “You’re amazing,” she tells him, rising on tiptoe for another kiss, unconcerned with the passersby and the blast of nearby train whistles.

Ron lifts one shoulder in a casual shrug when they break apart. “Had to meet you on a train platform somehow.”

[mikegunnill]

Piano Man revisited - 1st June 2020

Piano Man & the Kent Messenger.

******************************************

Where is the mystery 'Piano Man' of Sheppey now?

It is one of Kent's strangest mysteries. And 15 years on, it is still not known for sure how a young man from Bavaria ended up wet and lost on a beach on the Isle of Sheppey.

It was shortly before midnight when bemused police officers found him dripping wet and peering into McDonald's in Sheerness.

He was wearing a smart, dark suit but with no identification. Even the labels had been removed.

It looked like he had washed ashore at The Leas, Minster. Concerned onlookers spotted him near an abandoned boat and called police.

Officers eventually found wandering in town and were even more puzzled to discover he could not, or would not talk.

With little other options, they dried him, as best they could, and took him by patrol car to Medway Maritime Hospital's accident and emergency department at Gillingham.

After doctors gave him a clean bill of health, the mystery man was handed into the care of social worker Michael Camp. And so began a four-month saga as the world's media struggled to solve the secret identity of the stranger who became known as 'Piano Man'.

Left alone with a sketch pad to write down his name, he drew a picture of a grand piano instead.

Puzzled, Mr Camp took his new charge to the hospital's chapel where he was amazed by an instant transformation. As he sat at the keys of a piano, the stranger became calm and relaxed for the first time.

He could even play surprisingly well and was heard reciting sections from Swan Lake by Tchaikovsky and what appeared to be his own compositions.

After three weeks without any sign of recovery, a desperate Mr Camp turned to the Daily Mail to help launch a public appeal for information. Freelance photojournalist Mike Gunnill from nearby Upchurch was despatched to take exclusive pictures.

The former Kent Evening Post photographer, who went on to work for television company TVS and then The Sun and is now part of Bygone Kent magazine, recalled: "It was a Friday afternoon and I was looking forward to the weekend when I took a call from the picture desk.

"They said it probably wasn't much of a story but a man had been washed up on a beach and had lost his memory. Could I go and check it out?"

So, on May 6, 2005, Mike turned up at the hospital.

The social worker had been given permission to help get a photo but the mystery man would scream whenever he saw a new face. So the pair hatched a plot.

The photographer hid in bushes with his Nikon F3 film camera and 300mm lens and half an hour later Mr Camp led his charge through the hospital's grounds for a walk.

Mike,  said: "I only managed to fire off five shots before the man spotted me and became distressed, covered his face with his plastic music folder and started making strange noises."

But those were the only five shots ever taken of the man. Mike said: "Even then, I wasn't sure I had what we needed."

He drove home and spent an agonising hour in his darkroom processing the film to see the results.

Of the five shots, two were no good. The others captured a frail, lightly-bearded figure with spikey blond hair, wearing his by now dried-out suit and white shirt and with every possible button done up.

Mike emailed them to the Mail's picture desk in London and explained that the man wasn't talking but loved playing the piano.

"Like a piano man?" replied a weary voice at the other end of the phone.

Three weeks passed but still the photos had not been used.

Then a concerned Mike received a call saying the executives weren't going to use his pictures because they believed the man was an asylum-seeker and it was an elaborate hoax. But Mike was welcome to sell the pictures to anyone else.

The Mail was not alone. The manager of a pub near where he was found maintained the stranger was "just another illegal immigrant" who had either jumped ship or been pushed overboard by people-smugglers as coastguards closed in.

Instead, it was down to the Mail on Sunday to break the news on May 15. Mike's front page photo unleashed a worldwide media storm as news organisations fought to be the first to find out who the mystery man was.

Only later would he be unmasked as 20-year-old German Andreas Grassl.

Mike recalled: "My phone started ringing at 6am the next morning with requests from all the other nationals to use my photographs it and didn't stop until midnight.

"The following day there were calls from the foreign media. One magazine in Japan even tried to make me to say the man was an alien from outer space!"

Mike was also accused of taking the photos illegally until it was pointed out they had been with permission. Sale of the photos netted him an estimated £35,000. They are still used in psychology text books.

Patrick White, a writer and broadcaster who teaches at King’s College London and has spent much time on the Island researching the mystery, recalled: "It was on April 7, 2005, that a young blond-haired man wearing a dark suit and white shirt was found wandering, dripping wet and distressed, near a beach on Sheppey.

"The police who picked him up couldn’t get a word out of him, so they took him to the Medway Maritime Hospital on the mainland where he was kept for a while and eventually sectioned for his own safety.

"He refused to speak and became highly agitated when approached. He had no identification on him and all the labels had been cut from his clothes.

"The clinicians made no progress with their nameless patient until, on being given some paper and pencils, he made a drawing of a grand piano.

"Taken to the piano in the hospital chapel, he sat down and played, much to the amazement of his carers, who recognised snatches of Swan Lake in his performance.

"Over the following days they encouraged him to play more, presenting him with sheet music of Lennon and McCartney tunes and admiring the ease with which he played them at sight.

"They decided this troubled young man might actually be the real thing: a brilliant but tortured artistic genius who must have suffered some sort of nervous breakdown after a disastrous performance and not even had time to change out of his concert clothes before stepping onto the boat from which he would leap, distraught, as it approached the Thames estuary and end up on Sheppey.

'Really bizarre'

"It was thought he was probably British and that there might be an orchestra or music academy somewhere missing a pianist."

Interpreters were unable to discover his origin and orchestras around Europe were contacted in a bid to trace his identity.

After the appeal for help, more than 800 calls swamped the National Missing Person’s Helpline. Speculation was intense as the story about a person, apparently risen from the sea, was taken up almost instantly all over the world.

Journalists and television crews from far-flung places descended on Sheppey.

"This is really bizarre," muttered a reporter from the Island's local newspaper the Sheerness Times Guardian as he pointed out a Tokyo television crew to a French journalist.

Meanwhile, the man was still playing the piano

Canon Alan Amos, the hospital chaplain, said at the time: "He likes to play what I would call mood music. Playing seems to be the only way he can control his nerves and his tension and relax. When he is playing, he blanks everything else out. He pays attention to nothing but the music."

If allowed to, he would play for three or four hours at a stretch and at times had to be physically removed because he refused to stop.

The 'piano man' was later transferred to Littlebrook Hospital, a secure mental health unit in Bow Arrow Lane, Stone, near Dartford, where manager Ramanah Venkiah said: "He has been playing the piano to a very high quality and staff say it is a real pleasure to hear it. But we don't know what his position is because he is not cooperating at all."

During the course of the summer there emerged an endless line of possible names.

There was a performance artist who had been seen in France or Spain, a classically-trained pianist who had once played in a dissident rock tribute band in Prague and a Canadian drifter known as ‘Mr Nobody’ who had tried to enter Britain illegally.

Various women also announced they were certain 'Piano Man' was their missing boyfriend or husband.

By late July, nursing staff were wondering whether their patient’s voice box had been damaged or had been removed. But all speculation came to an abrupt end on the morning of Friday, August 19, when a cleaner went into his room and asked routinely: "Are you going to speak to us today?"

Unexpectedly, the Piano Man opened his mouth and replied: "I think I will. I am not feeling very well."

He explained he was a 20-year-old Bavarian who, far from stepping out of the sea, had arrived in England by Eurostar train from Paris and had been trying to kill himself in the hours before he was picked up by the police.

He told hospital staff he had two sisters and was gay and also admitted he couldn't play the piano particularly well and had only drawn one because "it was the first thing that came to mind."

By the time news of his recovery reached the press, Andreas Grassl was back with his dairy-farming parents in the tiny village of Prosdorf in Bavaria where he would only speak in carefully measured statements issued through the family’s solicitor Dr Christian Baumann.

His father Josef, 46, and wife Christa, 43, were delighted to have their son - the most famous missing person in the world - back home in southern Germany.

Josef, ruddy-faced and wearing green Wellington boots, overalls and cap, wept as he told the Daily Mirror: "We honestly thought he was dead. Not knowing what had happened to him was torture.

"I went to bed every night and woke every morning wondering where he was, wondering if he was dead or alive.

"At one stage I thought it would be better to find out he was dead, just to stop me and my wife going through this torture. She has been terribly upset and bothered with her nerves."

When Andreas was finally reunited with his family at Munich airport he said simply: "Mir gehts gut" - I am fine. Then he said: "I am so happy to be home."

He told Josef: "Dad, you know that I am famous now. I know that my picture has been shown all around the world."

Andreas added: "I just do not know what happened to me.

"I get little flashes of my past, like in a film. But I have no idea how I ended up in England like that, or why I couldn't talk. I just suddenly woke up and realised who I was."

His dad confirmed his son was a talented musician who entertained relatives on an accordion and played a simple keyboard alongside his younger sister.

Josef added: "He knows he had some kind of illness and breakdown but I know he would never make something like this up. He learned to play the keyboard from the age of 10 and can also play the accordion. I think he found some comfort in the piano, except towards the end."

There was still no clue how Andreas reached Sheerness, from his tiny village of Prosdorf near the German-Czech border.

He had no money, no documents and the labels had been cut out of his soaking suit.

Josef said: "He had no passport, no driving licence, nothing. Not even papers or a ticket. He still does not really know how he got into England. He thinks he got a train from France and then maybe a ferry.

"Given that he had no travel documents, I really do wonder, and worry about what might have happened to him.

"Was he attacked or robbed? Hit over the head? We just don't know. He just woke up and suddenly realised who he was. Before that, he could remember nothing, not even his own name."

He added: "Come July, I was going to look for him myself. We honestly thought something had happened to him. He always seemed to be unhappy and found it hard to express his feelings, to show his love.

"But the doctors in England somehow have cured him of that, they have worked a miracle.

"They have given me a new son back. He tells me that he loves me. I cannot put into words how we feel."

A friend of the family reportedly said Grassl went to a grammar school and had wanted to get into radio or TV or study journalism.

Back in Britain, Grassl was denounced as a ‘fraud’ for not being mute and as a ‘sham’ for not really being able to play the piano.

West Kent NHS and Social Care Trust issued a statement saying he was no longer in the care of the trust, that he had been "discharged following a marked improvement in his condition," and that its "involvement with this man has now ceased and will not be resuming at any stage."

According to an article published in Pink News on May 1, 2007, by which time Grassl was living in Basel, Switzerland, and studying French Literature at university, his last words on the matter were: "That Piano Man stuff, no-one is interested in that any more."

Mr White said: "It still seems possible that, one day, he might look back at that photo and feel just slightly satisfied that he produced an image that kept the snarling, and not just tabloid, contempt for asylum seekers and scroungers at bay for a full season."

The real-life story was turned into a play called The Piano Man in 2014 by London theatre company AllthePigs.

Director Sam Carrack said: “I remember reading the article as a student and getting so excited by it but also the drama and the mystery of these happenings. But the story went cold and we never really got a closure.”

Daniel Hallissey had the tricky job of playing the elusive character and even learned to play the piano for the part.

He said: “For me, the story was a lot about the loneliness we all experience in the modern world and our struggle for identity. Finding out who we are is so difficult in these times.”

Grassl's hospital stay in Britain cost the authorities more than £50,000.

Grassl was born on October 25, 1984, and is now 35.

[hellolifeinlille-blog]

Aloha!!

I’m starting this blog post by firstly saying sorry that I haven’t kept my blog updated in almost two months. I’m sorry for being so so rubbish, but here I am filling you in on the past two months which have been super busy!

Picking up where I left off, after we visited Palais des Beaux Arts, Lucie, Christina, Ellie, and I all went ice skating in Wasquehal! It was so much fun, and it was like Bambi on ice in real life. We had such a good time, and I haven’t laughed that much in ages! Ellie, I’m sorry I didn’t take any candids of you on the ice but thank you for taking mine <3

Then, one Saturday (when it seemed like Lille drained of Language Assistants) Lucie, Julia and myself took the train all the way to Lens to visit the partner extension of the Louvre. It was okay – not the best gallery I have ever been to, but the main salle was really spacious and more my type of gallery rather than the cramped exhibitions. After the museum we went for lunch to a little brasserie and we were amazed that this was a restaurant that DIDN’T HAVE MENUS!? You literally had to ask the waitress for what you fancied and she would do her best to get something similar to you. We all had steak (I obviously had mine with peppercorn sauce) and it was yummy scrummy in my tummy!

Then, surprise surprise, Greg visited and we celebrated our one-year anniversary and my 21st birthday! For our anniversary, we had a limit of £15 to spend on each other. So, I treated Greg to some new books – The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night Time, Angels and Demons, and The Da Vinci Code! I love buying other people books, I think they are such satisfying gifts just to hold! Me, being the lucky devil that I am, got given a photo album with all the photos of me and my Greg from the past year! Is that not the sweetest thing you have ever heard in your life? So so kind of you, thank you so much Greg <3 And, if that wasn’t enough, the next day Greg and I celebrated part 2 of my 21st birthday celebrations and Greg gave me tickets to see Jon Richardson (my favourite ever comedian) and a Tiffany’s necklace! I was a literal heart-eyes emoji! I was so overwhelmed by all this love I cried, but I have worn it every day since and I love it. Greg, if you’re reading this (and you better be!) thank you thank you thank you! X

As 4 language assistants are all born in the same week (Julia, Beth, Lucie, and myself) we decided to organise a birthday meal at Fuxia so that everyone could get together and celebrate as one big group. We chose Fuxia because they have a really good reputation for Italian food. I treated myself to a goat’s cheese, pear and honey pizza which was so delicious! It was such a lovely evening and afterwards we all went for Crunchie Cake at Julia’s and we played Golden Gate. Best birthday party ever.

With the whole world shook by the news Donald Trump is actually the POTUS, Franny, Alisa, Kalen, Christina, and I took our disgust to Paris to protest against the Muslim Travel Ban. What a horrible rule to bring in, and I truly hope as many people protested as possible. After a day in Paris screaming about our disbelief and the prejudice going on in America, we decided to head towards Le Marais (the old Jewish quarter of Paris) and get some falafel! Best day ever, and I was so glad to get some of my social justice-related anger off my chest.

I managed to tick another country off my bucket list since I posted last! Me, Luke, Julia, and Becca spent a day visiting Luxembourg! As excited as you might think I sound – I’m not. It was pretty rubbish. If you go in winter everything is shut, so there’s nothing to do or look at!   So we spent most of our day looking in bookshops and in bars, restaurants, coffee shops, ANYWHERE just to make the time go faster! I personally wouldn’t visit again, but at least I can say I’ve been!

I’ve also been for birthday cocktails with Julia, Beth, and Lucie, visited Le Waf to celebrate Marley’s first birthday, and me and Beth had a girly afternoon of scrumptious salads, shopping, and getting our nails done to treat ourselves! I had my nails done silver and blue so that I looked like Elsa! But all this pampering must have been for a reason, I hear you say! Well, delighted reader, it was because MY FAMILY CAME TO VISIT! My mum, dad, Cara, and Lloyd all came to celebrate my Mum’s birthday (and to give me my presents!) and we had such a special day. For my birthday, my parents bought me and Greg a trip to Dublin whenever we like! We are so lucky. I bought my mum some perfume from a little parfumerie  by my house, and I think she loved it! To celebrate, we went on a huge bike ride, to Palais des Beaux Arts, and to Le Waf so that everyone would find something interesting to do! I had such a great time with my family, and I do really miss them when I don’t get to see them every day. I’m so grateful for everything they do for me.

Because my family were driving back to Wales, they offered to take me up to Liverpool so I can stay with Greg – how kind of them to pay for my crossing as well! I arrived in Liverpool at around 8:30 and Greg had cooked me the world’s best pie! Steak and ale, my favourite. After plenty of smooches, Friday Night Dinner, and vegetarian breakfasts we did our two favourite things: tea out at the new Mowgli on Water Street, and a cheeky hour at Ghetto Golf. We don’t need to go into the ins and outs of who won and who didn’t… (congratulations Greg!) After a fab time in Liverpool, we got the train back down to Birmingham for Mr James McKee’s 21st birthday! Joyeux Anniversaire! After an evening, night, and early morning full of pulled pork, gin and photo booths I had to get my train to London and Eurostar back to Lille. Crying. The whole way.

But since I have been back, our group of assistants have done some pretty fab things! On Wednesday 1st March we had a late Mardi-Gras/St David’s Day celebration over at Julia’s place! I was on pancake duty and cooked the best pancakes ever!!! It was so nice that everyone came together to celebrate my culture, so I organised a quiz all about the best country in the world: WALES. Did you know there are 3 sheep for every person in Wales? Or that the A5 is 181 miles long?

Last Saturday I woke up early and went all the way to Disneyland for the day with Jess Porter (who plays excellent games on the bus), Lucie, and Beth! We even planned our day so everyone got a ride they wanted. I really love the smaller quiet rides (think mum with toddler rides) whereas the others love the horrible, scary, throw you up in the air ones that terrify me. So I was a big girl and went on them all and I even held back all my tears when it felt like my stomach was doing flips! We had such a lovely time, and obvious I was basic and bought Minnie Ears!

Next weekend is Versailles! So I’ll upload after then!

Smell ya later X

[sunkissis]

  Bonjour,

Liv gets two whole weeks of spring break here, Yay! We took a three day trip to London (my second favorite city). Antz job has an office there so he spent a day at work. We stayed at The Hoxton Shoreditch. It’s almost identical to The Ace Shoreditch. The room was much smaller but it had the same hipster vibe and Shoreditch is such a fun area to stay in. We promised to take Olivia to the Warner Bros Harry Potter Studio Tour which was amazing. I advise you to purchase tickets well in advance. I procrastinated and they were sold out a few weeks before our trip so I had to pay a lot more for Golden Tours package but it included tickets and roundtrip coach to Leavesden which was convenient. While Antz was visiting his work office, Liv and I went to The Sanderson hotel for a girls Mad Hatter’s Afternoon Tea Party. We also had the best cake ever from the pretty Peggy Porschen which is an Instagrammer’s dream. We met up with our friend Melissa for an authentic Indian dinner in White Chapel. She gave us a tour of her neighborhood and showed us two amazing Basquiat-inspired Banksy art! I had no idea he has been putting up new art.

I was concerned about taking the Eurostar train due to France’s SNCF on-going strike but luckily it seemed every train except ours was canceled. We arrived about 40 minutes before our train departure time and it turned out to be the perfect timing. We breezed through the long customs line and we made it to the waiting lounge just as our train began to board.

You guys, I did something I have never done before, traveled in heels! Granted, they are the most comfortable wedges on the planet. I bought these Kork Ease wedges (similar ones here) from my favorite store in Highland Park, Dotter. Of course after weeks with no rain, it drizzled all morning.

This was the emptiest I have ever seen Gare Nord. Oh! Can I say how much I love my Away Carry-on bag. At first I wasn’t sold on the price and how small it is but for weekend trips it’s worth every penny! We arrived at San Pancras station to a lovely day in London.

After a few months of daily Metro commuting in Paris, I was surprised at how different taking the Tube is in London. There are less stairs than Paris, which is a plus, however the stations have escalators that are as steep as Mt. Everest. I totally get vertigo and wearing heels, holding my luggage along with Olivia’s hand was a balancing act because I don’t ever touch the hand rail (I saw a travel show about how much fecal matter is found on them). The Tube trains are also smaller and arrive in the station at the speed of a roller coaster.

Liv spotted our first Invader right away! Our hotel was only a few blocks from the Tube station.

Guess what? I had a harder time understanding people in London than in Paris! Very cool accents but they talk faaaaaast. To be honest, the room we ended up with wasn’t my fave. It was small and there wasn’t a closet for our bags but the bed was very comfy and I had a throne-esque chair to rest my tired feet.

It’s always hard to get out of a comfy hotel bed but we had to explore the town before our dinner plans. You know I can’t resist a photobooth.

The lobby was very cool but it was so packed with people, I couldn’t get any good photos. There was an art show featuring twins that looks rad and a dreamy communal kitchen space with a bright red Smeg!

As much as I love French croissants, I missed good old doughnuts! We passed Doughnut Time on our walk in so we had to get a snack.

I forgot they don’t accept euros in London so off to the ATM for some quid! Liv still wants to know why America is the only nation without women on the currency.

This little piggy had a Notorious P.I.G. doughnut.

We took a double decker bus to Whitechapel to meet our friend for dinner and we passed the old London Hospital. Our friend Melissa who was our tour guide for the evening, told us that Joseph Merrick lived in that hospital. I am a huge fan of the film The Elephant Man. I saw it was a kid and I still remember weeping buckets of tears of the horrific abuse he suffered. I asked her what was the city planning to do with the old building and she said probably tear it down and build condos. Lame!

She took us to an Indian part of Whitechapel for some authentic Indian cuisine. Now, I am fairly new to the Indian food game. It took me years to figure out what I liked and unfortunately, what I don’t. I am good with chicken Tikka Masala, white rice and garlic naan. I couldn’t tell you what I ordered at this place. The food was good, but I didn’t order correctly. You know when you are having such a great time you forget to take any pictures of the evening? That happened. I am infamous for delaying a meal in order to get that perfect dish shot but I only managed to take one picture at the restaurant.

Yup, those are raw white onions (my kryptonite) but I ate all that chicken! Yummy meal and bonus, we brought our own wine. After getting some ice cream for dessert we headed to the Barbican Centre to see the Banksy art.

I am so glad Melissa was our guide because we would have never found them. Thanks for a bloody wicked night m’dear!

The next morning we woke up to cute little breakfast bags on our door and we got all dolled up for our second breakfast of the day Peggy Porchsen’s Cakes! Besides, my motto is Eat Cake for Breakfast.

This pink palace is in Westminster so it took us quite awhile to find it but OMG this place is Disneyland for bloggers and Instagrammers. I was super bummed that I couldn’t get all the people waiting out front out of my photo but what can you do? Funny thing is I did politely ask that group of girls to move over so I could take a photo and they moved one inch. Okay, I see you!

Coincidental it’s on Elizabeth Street wouldn’t you say?

You guys, my iPhone camera do not do these beautiful cakes justice! I am wishing there was a cake shop like this in Paris.

It’s in her genes, what can I say?

She’s getting pretty good at taking our photos. After a stroll through beautiful West London, we headed to Victoria Station to catch our bus to Warner Bros. Studios.

They play Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone during the 35 – 40 minute drive to the studio. It’s lovely because I haven’t seen it in ages and it sets the mood for some Wizardry.

I won’t show everything because I want you to experience it for yourself but there are some really awesome props, costumes and special effects to see.

The best part of the tour is you get a passport book that has a scavenger hunt and riddles to solve as you walkthrough. Every set had a hidden golden snitch and they were not easy to find. When Liv solved the riddles so would stamp her book with an emboss machine.

She bought a quill at the gift shop and now she insists on writing all her correspondences using quill.

This sexy wizard’s pantaloons are notable. You better work those bows and ruffles, boy!

Can I say how betrayed I felt when I saw how small the long corridor set was in real life? I was sure it was an actual hallway connected to Hogwarts Castle.

What a missed opportunity, the tour bus that brought us to the studio should have been the Knight bus!

Of course our tour included a cup of yummy Butterbeer!

My favorite part of the tour is the amazing Hogwarts Castle set. It’s fascinating how much detail is put into this castle.

Can you see the tiny Beauxbâtons flying carriage. I’m gonna drop a little nerd knowledge on ya. Did you know that Beauxbâtons means Beautiful Wands in French? I would totally send Liv to that school!

Our last stop was the magical gift shop and Liv and I ended up with some lame wizard and witch cards we never heard of in our chocolate frogs. That’s some good chocolate though.

We stopped at Kings Cross on our way back to the hotel and stood in the long line of tourists to take the Platform 9 & 3/4 photo. They supply you with a scarf and a $29.99 souvenir photo, if you’re a sucker.

The next day Antz went to work in Camden and Liv and I headed to the West End. Liv had no idea I was taking her for tea. I have never been to a formal tea party either. It felt very posh.

As you can see the food was adorable and very delicious. I had my first scone with clotted cream. We drank buckets of tea!

  After tea, we hung out in the lobby of The Sanderson, which has the most random chairs.

It is now Liv’s life mission to own this hanging chair.

Antz took this adorable selfie in his work lobby.

That evening we went to the movies to see the incredible Isle of Dogs. I was planning to see it in Paris but it was only playing in French. Of course I absolutely loved it. I am an avid Wes Anderson fan.

Our last day in London was chill. We had breakfast at a place called The Breakfast Club. Liv ordered the best salted caramel milkshake ever. I missed good ole’ bacon so much.

We had some time before our train so we walked around Shoreditch to hunt for Invaders. We ended up back on Rivington Road which is the same place we had our photo shoot with Lee back in 2014.

Four years later…

We were walking by and we noticed the Banksy we shot too! There wasn’t anyone to take our picture so I used our camera’s remote.

I got my nose pinched again! We walked to Brick Lane and were blown away by the street art. We also caught like eight Invaders.

It took me forever to see that giant ass bow and arrow sculpture. Liv was like, Mom, it’s right there and I’m all, Where?!

I’ve wanted to try a rainbow bagel but they were only made in New York so Liv was super excited to try on from this bakery. I didn’t have one because this place didn’t toast their “beigels” so I passed.

I am such a Pinterest nerd that I geeked out at this shop that sells cleaning supplies. I didn’t have time to go in but look how pretty that green tile is.

I saw a rad Star Wars Invader when we were on the bus one night and I tried to find it before we left. My only clue was the building was grey and I knew it was on a corner. We walked for ages and finally Liv spotted it. On the walk back to the hotel we realized it was only five minutes away! We were walking right past it everyday and never saw it.

We checked out of our hotel and I had a piece of red velvet cake from the Hoxton Grill which was yummy! Then it was time to head back to Paris.

The Hoxton Hotel 81 Great Eastern St London EC2A 3HU, UK

You can click this link for a discount at any of the Hoxton hotels.

  Au Revoir London!

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Shoreditch, London Bonjour, Liv gets two whole weeks of spring break here, Yay! We took a three day trip to London (

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