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About Lyon

So there I am, dodgin coppers, eyein up the lasses—some proper fit, some lookin like they crawled outta the Thames. “This is not a drill!” I’m yellin in me head, all Churchill-like, “We shall never surrender!” Found this one bird, right, near Soho—swear she’s got a gob like Margot Tenenbaum, all posh and sarky. She goes, “Wotcha want, love?” and I’m like, “Ain’t no time for faff, darlin!” She’s chargin 50 quid, and I’m fumin—50 bloody quid?! Robbery, that is! Made me proper angry, but also a bit chuffed—hagglin’s half the fun, yeah?

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First off, I hit the streets, right? Strolled down Rue de la République. It’s a nice spot, but lemme tell ya, the morning crowd was insane! People everywhere, like ants on a sugar trail. I’m just tryin’ to get my coffee at that little café, Le Café de la Paix. You know the one? The barista, Pierre, he’s a legend. But today? He spills hot coffee all over my hand! I’m like, “Dude, what’s your deal?” He just laughs it off. I mean, c’mon!

Fond farewell to France by a lady of the manoir