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Mim's adventures in Paris
Angel,
This is an umbrella report from Paris, France. The populace here have lost sight of their wardrobe; in the confusion of the weather (10-15 degrees) and rain every day - you either see overbundled or underbundled Parisians with broken umbrellas.
Obviously when they are in a fit of rage the locals smash their brollies. Or here is an alternate scenario: overcome
with joy, the native dashes into the street and starts hitting an Aston Martin in a moment of exaltation - or if the occasion presents itself, his uncle's creme-coloured Rolls. Then, feeling liberated, he continues on his way, with his now-droopy umbrella, down the Champs-Elysée.
Daddy had his dapper cap stolen by a vile individual in the neighborhood bakery while shopping for a croissant. You may well wonder how it got off his head into the clutches of a Fagan. Well, here is my scenario, reconstructed: Daddy, being naturally polite, removes his cap in the shop and tucks it under his arm while reaching for his wallet. The arm lifts slightly during the transaction. Bingo, cap on floor. Fagan, the Master Pickpocket and Evildoer on vacation from England is - on the other hand, watching closely. He pounces on the superb beige linen cap, a jewel from Scotland, bought for a king's ransom, as Daddy steps out of the shop. Exit Fagan clutching the cap instead of a croissant - which you can't wear on your head.
More Paris adventures later. Hugest love,
Mim
This is an umbrella report from Paris, France. The populace here have lost sight of their wardrobe; in the confusion of the weather (10-15 degrees) and rain every day - you either see overbundled or underbundled Parisians with broken umbrellas.
Obviously when they are in a fit of rage the locals smash their brollies. Or here is an alternate scenario: overcome
with joy, the native dashes into the street and starts hitting an Aston Martin in a moment of exaltation - or if the occasion presents itself, his uncle's creme-coloured Rolls. Then, feeling liberated, he continues on his way, with his now-droopy umbrella, down the Champs-Elysée.
Daddy had his dapper cap stolen by a vile individual in the neighborhood bakery while shopping for a croissant. You may well wonder how it got off his head into the clutches of a Fagan. Well, here is my scenario, reconstructed: Daddy, being naturally polite, removes his cap in the shop and tucks it under his arm while reaching for his wallet. The arm lifts slightly during the transaction. Bingo, cap on floor. Fagan, the Master Pickpocket and Evildoer on vacation from England is - on the other hand, watching closely. He pounces on the superb beige linen cap, a jewel from Scotland, bought for a king's ransom, as Daddy steps out of the shop. Exit Fagan clutching the cap instead of a croissant - which you can't wear on your head.
More Paris adventures later. Hugest love,
Mim
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I love your mother. :)
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I love reading her letters to you.
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And no, I don't care how bad that sounds. Y'all know that what I mean is that Mim is made of WinSauce and AwesomeSauce...
Vile Individual Steals Dapper Cap
More, more!
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That woman is fabulous.
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