Dismal October skies and heavy rain.
Monday: Paris, the Musée d’Orsay shut.
Parapluies and ennui by the river Seine.
‘Perhaps the Louvre ?’ Take a damp shortcut:
an hour-long line – ‘Bugger that, life’s too short!’
We said, faced with a half-drowned, snaking queue
of the patient, for whom such rain is sport.
Lunch instead – French fries, steak and tiramisu,
washed down by a bottle of Beaujolais.
The bill (ouch), a walk through puddles, then take
some shelter where the pleasure domes purvey,
beneath that roof, English tea, chocolate cake.
This is the home of the well-heeled, the sleek.
Outside, a man so poor he cannot speak.