* Slams open swing doors on the B3TA Saloon *
* Glances around moodily as if looking for the drifter that killed my paw *

* Falls on arse as doors swing back and hits him full in the face *

* Ambles in looking less moody, definitely more sheepish, and rubbing nose *

Morning all. At this moment, I am sitting 35 floors up a tower block in Paris.

This makes a chance from my usual working environment at this time in the morning, which is sitting half dressed at home, deciding whether to bother shaving, and with the rememants of breakfast strewn around.

Unfortunately, the process of getting me here has involved:

- a 2 hour delay on a one hour flight,
- traffic jams,
- my shaver deciding to switch itself on in the suitcase and running the battery down,
- incompetent hotel staff who, after being specifically asked to confirm something, managed to not do that specific thing.
- An unfortunately large number of French people.

I've never had a good business trip here - so Paris does not hold great affection to me.

Spookily, when I was texting Mrs Fireflier last night bemoaning my transit woes, the phrase "*shakes fist at the gods of traffic*". Came out as "shakes fiat" - which I thought was probably even more relevant.

* Performs live sacrafice of a Fiat to ensure a smooth journey home *
( Fireflier La la la la, not listening on, Tue 1 Jul 2008, 11:58, Reply)