Discussing major world events isn’t my forte and in any case the recent horrors in Paris have left me without words. There’s nothing I can write that’s going alleviate any suffering or make any sense of last night’s atrocities.
But like many people I have been preoccupied, for most of today, with what has happened.
I was lucky enough to spend my mid twenties living in Paris. I discovered Moliere, Marivaux and Musset. I didn’t really understand much of their work but I still have a bookshelf dedicated to French literature I’ve never read.
I also ate snails for the first time. I repeated the experience at least twice more before concluding that though the notion of eating snails didn’t disgust me, I didn’t actually enjoy the dish itself all that much.
I learnt to speak French badly.
I acquired a taste for red wine that I can’t afford to buy in the UK.
I ran the Paris marathon twice. Both times very slowly.
I also met my beautiful wife and several years later took her back there so I could propose to her.
When I think of Paris, I will think of these things and all the other amazing memories that wonderful eclectic city has given me.
I hope it can get back to making magical memories for other people again soon.