en fwonce

So, I've been back 3 weeks.
And this weekend, we're off again. Well, for four days anyway.

We're taking the Eurostar under the English Channel on Saturday to wake up in time for brunch in Paris.

Oui oui, c'est vrai.

There's something magical about being able to sit in a train for two hours, 20 000 leagues below the ocean's surface. So to speak. You climb in at King's Cross, sleep under the ocean, and two hours later, wake up in Paris. The Eurostar must be one of the greatest trains of all time.

Doc, one of my dearest friends happens to be studying in Paris for a while, so am dying to catch up with him, while Moogs and E4, dear friends of mine from Saffaland are coming over too. Am just ridiculously excited to see some of my favourite, oldest friends.

From there, it gets better. We'll travel across France and end up in Meribel for bit of faire du ski.
We went to Meribel last year and found, after years of no-practice, we're pretty shit at the skiing thing. (And to think I did a working ski thing in the States for three months...)

Actually, I'm just a bit shit at skiing. The Brit, like most men, started snowboarding from scratch last year and was up doing 360s in three days.

Anyway, we're staying with mates who own a chalet this time - how awesome is that? Great digs, great company, great gooey cheese, vin chaud and toffee vodka.

Plus, a wee bit of France. And in a region near to where I used to live. This causes endless excitement between to the hemispheres of my brain.

But first, it's been one helluva week work wise. Been burning the candle at both ends on a heap of new [but exciting!] projects, one of which included being mobbed outside a conference today.

I was forced to nosedived into a London cab.

Good thing I was wearing my new 'don't fuck with me' pencil skirt. In 'I'll bite you' slate.