Friday my boyfriend Jacob arrived – a little later than planned because the traffic on the RER B from Charles de Gaulle was ”interrompe”- a word one doesn’t want to hear here. Usually it means that traffic goes on but becomes very delayed. However he finally did arrive and we went out to have dinner at Place Vosges. Lovely location but dreadful main dish and the experience was only saved because of the great company and the crêpes for dessert which were okay. But it is great being able to dine outdoors in the end of October, even though I feel bad about it because of the impact it must have on the environment to keep all these outdoor heaters going!
After dinner we toured the Marais and found a lovely sign outside a maison du thé: le thé des ecrivains – the writer’s tea. I like that name. And until I actually have time to write fiction again I have to hang on to the fact that I believe myself to be a writer, just one who is not working right now. Some people say that the definition of a writer is someone who writes, which I generally believe is true. For now however I have to be satisfied with the fact that I have actually completed an entire novel of 300 pages and that I feel that I go through life perceiving it in the way only a writer or another form of artist could.
