I thought it would be the way I’d feel if I ever visited Europe. I’d come home, and if I looked closely into the mirror I’d be able to make out a little white Alp at the back of my eye.

OK, I didn’t go to the Alps, I just (just!) went to Paris, and I’d been twice before anyway, and also: quoting the The Bell Jar…

A long and boring tour of my internal turmoil throughout the past few weeks.

So we went to Paris. To celebrate love, and all that. It was so fucking Parisian, you would not even believe. It was literally all bonbons…