Opening the door…
This morning I did my usual cours de samedi matin along avenue du Mont Royal, buying veal sausages for Sunday night, chese for Ulli’s wine and cheese themed birthday celebrations on Monday, and assorted cheap fruit and veg for me for the rest of the week. The weather has turned remarkably fine. Temperatures rose towards the end of this week, and Thursday and Friday were tarnished by (shock horror) rain. But today the sky is largely clear, and after a few minutes carrying my heavy shopping bag back to the apartment, I was sweating from the warmth.
When I got home I had a bite to eat, treated myself to some English language radio, and tackled last night’s washing up (the only downside from Ryan’s funky-fusion-curry-stir-fry last night. For the first time in weeks, I opened wide the door to the balcony and let the sounds of the Plateau flood in. Even from our sheltered and private balcony I could hear the sounds of the city. Church bells in the distance, police sirens, traffic passing on Boyer, someone clearing his throat while walking down the ruelle behind our apartment. As I soaked, soaped and scrubbed the pans, memories flooded back from my first visit to this apartment back in May 2005. That time I arrived alone, and found the apartment empty but for the cats. Charlotte was out at work, but in the warmth of the spring air had left the door to the balcony wide open. The cats came in and out, sniffing the new arrival, and invited me out to sit on the sunny balcony.
There’s a chance of snow again later next week, but I think we’re through the worst.