The end of the Paris episodes (I hope)

Well - it was almost anti-climactic. No big fights, no drama, nothing. One of the mercenaries, who lives nearby called 3 minutes before 8 saying he could not pick up the phone last night because he was in a meeting (nobody in the entire history of Alcatel has ever been in a meeting at 10 pm, mais passons) claiming that he had left me a message that Diggler was going to come this morning. He is coming as well, he told me, and a few minutes later he was indeed there at the same time as the friendly, round faced mover guy. I told the mover what I wanted to have shipped and where, the Mercenary helped me with the boxes while worrying about whether or not his German superior would show up in time to pay the bill. To his - and I confess, my - relief Diggler showed up half an hour late. He did not know I was going to be there, so I thought I could play up the suprise factor. I hid behind the kitchen door while I was making some tea and as he walked in he went straight for his crony who was standing across the hall so I was not instantly visible to him. This gave him a jump, and then I instantly asked him if he wanted some tea as well. He was surprised and confused and then said that he did not expect me to offer him anything, but that he would take it. I told him that I was a very civilized girl and handed him his cup and after this point I merely ignored him as he was moving around the leaving room looking to print out Tom's passport (he did not find the printer, which we put in a cupboard below the kitchen shelves) and negotiating the moving details with the French guy.

I chose to be calm and cool and ultra-civilized because I wanted my stuff shipped and did not want to fight this fight for nothing. I though that it would be hard because I would get so angry and pissed off as soon as I saw him that I could not contain myself. To be honest, I was not. Perhaps it was in part because I had worked myself up so much during the night and the previous days that I was out of steam by this morning. I also did not get more than 2 hours' sleep last night, which numbed me to, so I was just pacing up and down the flat, like a zombie during that painful half hour while these two bastards were there. Ultimately - and interestingly perhaps - when I saw Diggler (for the first time since this whole saga got out of control) I did not I see the despicable yet suave and evilly glamorous gangster of mafia movies or even the petty, hateful small-time crook of daytime soaps - I saw a pathetic, spineless creature who was so embarrassed by my presence and unoffensiveness that he could evidently not wait to get out of here. At least, he signed the 1000 euro cheque without batting an eyelid and I got rid of them pretty quickly. Meanwhile, the mover guy kept going up and down, his forehead gathering more and more sweat in the suddenly hot Paris summer.

Aftre the deed was done and they all left Ernest, Thomas' Australian PA arrived to an empty flat. The guy is very friendly, he has studied medieval and renaissance history in Australia (go figure) but has spent the past few years doing menial jobs in various countries in Europe and the US. We went out, had a nice lunch and shared a bottle of rose. Lack of sleep, mental exhaustion and the wine, combined with the heat turned out to be a lethal combination: I started running amok in my neighborhood and bought spent a lot of money on various cute items of clothing that I don't really need. I feel a little sad for leaving this place even tough I never particularly felt attached to it while I was here. Recently though, I have been feeling more at home: "my" fishmonger, fruit seller, optician, drycleaner, etc. all started recognizing me and greeting me on the street when I walked past them. That is nice and today I almost wanted to say goodbye to them but then I decided that it was probably down to too much alchol and excitement that I was getting so emotional about people with whom I never exchanged anything other than goods for money and couple of kind words. Perhaps it is true that you only realize what you have once you have lost it, no matter what it is. Perhaps I am just a snob and I am only sad because I found an article in the New York Times about "my" street this morning, which made me think that it was really cool to live here for a while after all... (http://travel2.nytimes.com/mem/travel/article-page.html?res=9B04EEDF1F3AF934A15751C0A9639C8B63&n=Top%2fFeatures%2fTravel%2fDestinations%2fEurope%2fFrance%2fParis)