Letters from France - 24th July 1947 - 1

Dear Folk,

I arrived back from Paris yesterday evening having spent 3 very happy and interesting days in Paris, and consequently decided not to return till after August Bank Holiday, in order to pay another visit and do a bit more sight seeing and some shopping, as things like woollies and suits are now off points I gather. I have already bought a sunhat and some white summer shoes.

Well, I will being (strangely enough) at the beginning and try to tell you all ("confessions of a fallen character" etc.) I rose at the ungodly hour of 6.30 on Monday morning, and met Arsène at the station to catch the 8 am train. (By the way, in case you are trying to make four out of two and one, knowing that I have been seeing Paris with this fellow, and my having said that he is threatening to come and demand my hand [in marriage], let me reassure you that such talk is merely part of the general air of banter to be found where he is around. He is already engaged, or practically, to a German girl who was here during the war.)

Well, we reached Paris about 9.15, and spent the morning going to various newspaper offices with his cartoons, booking places for theatres, and booking my hotel room. Then we returned to his room and made lunch - or rather he did all the cooking, to make up for which I did all the washing up! Daft state of affairs, but he cooks well.

After lunch we set out in sweltering heat to view the views. It's a wonder I managed to enjoy anything, what with the heat, my feet giving me jip like never before, and my body absolutely covered with heat lumps (not mosquito bits after all) - to add to which I caught a flea in my bed Monday night, and one of my spots swelled on my knee in a great red patch the size of a jaffa orange. Still, inspite of these trials I did enjoy myself. We visited first the Panthéon, where famous folks are buried, and then the Latin quarter with the Sorbonne, or University. Then we went to Les Invalides, a sort of Chelsea Pensioners' place I gather, where Napoleon is buried; and then to the Tour Eiffel. You may know that there are three "floors" one can go up to by lift. I wanted to go up to the top, but Arsène was afraid of vertigo and wouldn't go further than 1st. However, there was a beautiful view from there. We looked over to the Trocadero, which we didn't have time to visit, and to the Sacré Coeur - which I forget what it is. (Have enquired - a church.)

By the time we had drunk a "jus de fruit" (we did nothing but drink "jus de fruit" and "citronades"), it was time to sprint back and gobble our supper in 20 minutes in order to get to the theatre in time. In fact both nights we were in such a hurry that the washing up was left till I arrived for lunch next day. Then we would begin with dessert - fruit bought during the morning, then do the washing up, then drink some beer, then make the lunch, then finish up again with dessert - what a muddle.

Well, the first evening we went, believe it or not, to the "Folies Bergère". I was not impressed by the quality of the turns - they were mostly an excuse to wear either extravagant dresses or nothing at all. With one exception - two men who did the mast amazing poses, supporting each other by their hands and arms alone:

Extraordinarily badly drawn, but perhaps you can gather - one of the most spectacular.(Actually, I am not sure now if they did both get horizontal together, but I am sure the top one did at one time.) My first impression about the nude women, is that if they are going to dance naked they should also sunbathe naked, otherwise a rather comic effect is produced. I did enjoy watching them - there were some very attractive girls and of course I can watch them purely from an aesthetic point of view! On the whole the girls seemed to be thinner - to have more narrow, pointed features than English chorus girls. There was another clever piece - a tableau of an inn scene set like this: Gave the effect of a picture set crooked on the wall. How the men managed to sit and drink at that angle I can't imagine. It was more acute than I have drawn it. We came out about 11.30 and had another citronade at a pavement café before returning - Arsène to his room and - strange to say - I to mine! - and to my flea catching.

Next morning Arsène had various visits to make, so I spent the morning shopping and shop-gazing in the district round the hotel, and joined him for lunch. In the afternoon we visited the Louvre, walked through Les Jardins des Tuileries to the Place de la Concorde - with its Egyptian Obelisque, and then up the Champs Elysées to l'Arc de Triomphe. After another Jus de Fruit it was again time to rush back for supper, and rush out to the theatre, this time to the Opera-Comique. We saw Carmen. It was very nice, but this time the heat was sufficient to mar my enjoyment somewhat. Another orangeade and another late night, but this time no fleas.