However, the relationship did get off to a rocky start. The first Parisian site to be seen by the now well travelled “newlyweds” was the Bastille monument.   Unfortunately this view came as they were entering the lovely round-about surrounding said monument and as they say: “if you’re driving in Paris, stop it”. To quote James, 2015.

Seemingly oblivious to the near death experiences and effects on relationships (between all three parties, including Paris), Lea and James hit the road again…on bikes.  Misinterpreting the “Fat Tire Bike Tours” name, they provide wide tyre bikes, rather than cater for those who are exhausted and have overindulged for six weeks, we found ourselves riding through Paris on a perfect Friday night.  Lea describes herself as a “Rotto rider” (where your only obstacles are quokkas, not crazy, driving, riding and walking Frenchmen) and strongly identifies with the balance issues of newborn babies, but despite this, Lea, James and Paris all fell in love…and almost off the bikes, after getting drunk on a boat cruise (part of the “ride”).

With so many grand plans for day trips to: Versailles, Giverny, Rouen, Fontainebleu…Paris turned on its charm and a remarkable run of weather that saw our balcony and the copious amount of public parks become overwhelmingly attractive.

We knocked off some of the biggies though. La Louvre: saw Mona Lisa, who could barely rustle up a smile for us, and Venus de Milo whose attraction has always been lost on us so we were a bit nervous, but she turned out to be pretty armless. We also went to L’Orangerie for a Monet fix and drank wine from coffee cups on the lawn in the Tuilleries.  La Musée d’Orsay: worth going for the building itself, a van Gogh collection that houses every VG painting an art ignoramus (James) would have ever seen in a book, so many Degas’ that would have come in handy in Champagne….pop…and an interesting temporary exhibit on prostitution, which, surprisingly, was free to get in to… Le Tour Eiffel: the oldest, temporary structure we’ve ever seen and we were surprised by how blown away we were at the top, and not just because of the wind…it gives a breathtaking view of this beautifully, perfect city.  Arc de Triumph: another surprisingly impressive monument that soars above the flat surrounds, and with the city mostly closed to traffic, in a cute attempt at being green, we were able to dodge the traffic on the round-about then walk along the length of Les Champs Élysées, sans voitures. A once in a lifetime chance.

We also visited the Rodin museum (really makes you think), Pantheon, Pompidou, Picasso Museum, passed Notre Dame a couple of times, picnicked on Île St Louis, funiculared to Sacré Coeur and Montmarte, walked past the Moulin Rouge (I’m sure the view inside is a lot better than outside), ate crepes in the Latin Quarter, drank in the Luxembourg gardens and wandered the streets at night drinking wine outside Notre Dame, on the steps of the Louvre and in the Tuileries …so we did get around a bit.

The standout of the sojourn in Paris, was a night at the opera. We booked well in advance to make sure we got in to see the building, not being fussy over what was on show. A Paris regular and regular Woodsider also managed to get cheap last minute tickets, which help to slightly offset the cost of drinks inside, but if you have to pick somewhere to drink €70 Taittinger after not being paid for five weeks, then this is it!  Just tearworthy, stunning beauty in every corner, we now know why people were bad mouthing La Scala (you know who you are). But we agree, La Scala sucks.   The opera itself, Platée, was incredibly entertaining.  Hilarious acting, amazing soprano and the best choreography we’ve ever seen in an opera.  The first opera we’ve seen for a while without regular use of a muff, although we did get close, as one of the ladies (not the fat one) was dressed in red lingerie for no apparent reason, nobody was complaining.  To be fair to all, we also saw: three entangled men in two piece lingerie, random frog people, multiple acts of domestic violence (to the laugh of the crowd), breakdancing, sadomasachism, girls with six foot long legs and a mesmerising ceiling by Chagall that seemed perfectly out of place.

However, most of our time in Paris really was spent like locals (who don’t work and can still walk away smiling after putting up with the genuine Perth prices…in Euros…of our local store) on our balcony, drinking champagne, eating cheese and breakfasts of mainly croissants with incredible heirloom tomatoes and cheeses.  We had flirted with the idea of including mushrooms…as James was desperate to call it a breakfast of champignons. Utterly indulgent, time wasting, life changing breakfasts. So ridiculous in fact that when toasting to our ménage á trois with Paris (who I’ve heard is actually gay? So bad luck Lea), a butterfly appeared from nowhere and circled our bubbles before returning to the bright blue sky.  We also got to watch a SUPER, lunar eclipse from our balcony…vraiment, Paris?

À bientôt, gay Paris. We’ll never baguette you.