Today didn’t properly start until quite late by our standards. We weren’t out of the flat until at least midday so we decided to grab the metro to Place de la Concorde and sit down at a pricey but delicious café that I had been taken to before. NS was pleased, I had done well.

After a lovely French brunch, we walked down through the Jardin des Tuileries and through the centre of the Louvre.

This was followed by a walk west by the Seine through the not-so-aptly named Paris Plage (they tried, bless them, there was a small amount of sand…) and across the river to Ile de la Cité. This is the isle in the middle of the Seine with Notre Dame on it. We didn’t stop, but passed through and admired the building. Speedy sightseeing.

We crossed over to the other side of the Seine and NS was in his element as we passed several second hand and vintage book stalls. Since the start of this trip, NS has been on the lookout for a gem, a book or object that he will appear with on Celebrity Bargain Hunt in 30 years and be told he could sell it for a 60,000% markup. Thus far in the trip, he has been unsuccessful…and today was no exception.

All this book hunting obviously took its toll on the poor young Cypriot, as he promptly refuelled his tanks on a Nutella crêpe before continuing any further. Further, in this case, was the Jardin de Luxembourg; another set of palace gardens that provided a lovely backdrop for the pleasantly warm Parisian summer afternoon.

On they way back to the flat, we passed by the Montparnasse Cemetery and NS recognised several of the famous people buried there; including that carmaker Mr Citroen, l’écrivain Samuel Beckett and a certain Jean-Paul Sartre.

We found Sartre’s grave, which was bizarrely enough covered in used metro tickets among the poetry and drawings in various languages. Upon further inspection however, the tickets had various messages on them to the deceased playwright, philosopher and thinker.

We failed to find any other of the graves we intended to as it is a very large cemetery, but we did have a shock on the way to the exit. We passed a family grave that had four members deceased in 1942 and the French inscription read, “À ma famille Dikerman, exterminée à Auschwitz-Birkenau.”

This was shocking, to say the least, such a poignant reminder that something we had seen weeks ago, a thousand or so miles away had had such a profound effect here. Again, the enormity of the horrific actions perpetrated during the second world war hit home. “Shocking” is the only word I can think of.

We came back to the flat for a shower and a small amount of blog maintenance and then it was off to the duck restaurant that I had been so eager to visit again since my stay here during Christmas.

The duck restaurant was actually called Sud-Ouest & Cie and it was fantastic. Over a bottle of very nice Bergerac we enjoyed foie gras, slices of duck in honey/fruits of the forest and profiteroles. Having such wonderful food while a Paris summer sunset during is one of the finer experiences in life and is recommended to all.

The day didn’t finish quite there though, as we still had some drama left in us.  On the metro home, one stop before our destination, a man, who appeared to be homeless and drug-addled, dived out of the train just before the doors shut.  His bag, however, was left on the seat opposite.

Being British and self-important, we didn’t make the natural assumption that the man had been too high on god-knows-what to notice he’d forgotten his luggage, so we therefore landed at the logical conclusion that we were about to be blown to bits.

The concerned citizens of a fellow EU member state, we marched up to the ticket office upon disembarking the train.  NS then expertly co-ordinated his French language skills to detail what had happened.  His A-level French was definitely worth the money.  Nevertheless, I provided essential help to confirm the station at which the incident happened – Pasteur.  The man at the ticket office promptly phoned the appropriate people.

I guess our medals must be in the post…