I think I arrived tonight. Meeting a bunch of strangers off the internet is nothing unusual for me, so I arranged to do just that, at the Karaoke Bar Sablon. Tram in Siberian conditions down Rue Royale and then a little stroll (pointy boots really not good on cobblestones) down the Place du Grand Sablon. Despite the rather upmarket area the bar is...basic. And cheap. So that's fine with me. I gave them my Doris Day and Alison Moyet and met some charming, lovely people. And then I left. Always leave them wanting more, as...somebody said. Probably P. T. Barnum. Or Tony Blair.
Walking back to the tram, I saw a man on a motorised sitting-down scooter, with a small dog in the front, in the pouring rain. This gave me the giggles. And then I couldn't stop. Open-coated in the January rain, walking in the lee of the huge Nôtre-Dame au Sablon I kept giggling and snorting at what I've done. At where I am now, at what I'm doing, at the fact I just sang to a bunch of strangers and danced at them.
And despite all the scary scaremongering, the tram at 11.30pm was warm, well-used, and got me nicely home.