Je suis prête. Ça va, Paris? How have you been in the last few hours? You
looked after me so well for the past week that
there was not a moment that I didn't feel loved.
And London was so welcoming this morning with
its persistent rain, which I welcomed with my
persistent smile. I slept through the Eurostar
journey with my fancy sleep mask on as I managed
to sit alone again (watch out for those empty
priority seats when the train has started moving --
de rien!) after finishing the last pages of Siddhartha
by Hermann Hesse, an essential re -reading for
me after almost 30 years. The river's tide was
neither low nor high when I arrived at the pier.
making the bridge toward the barges effortless
to cross with my compact yet heavy bags. In any
case, my heart was so light that everything felt
easy and fun. Even when I, by genuine mistake,
walked through a chantier, an empty construction
site, at dawn, on my way from La Chapelle to
Gare du Nord, got caught by a man sitting in
an old car at the other end, who asked me to show
him where I got in, and--oh great, now there
was another man walking in a direction shouting
at me and to the other guy saying it was closed
where he was coming from. I assured 'my' guy
that it was open, but after a long walk back
to the other side, suddenly everything was closed.
No entrance was found. I have either unlocked
a new superpower, or the other guy went out, leaving
the entrance open, and now he needed to make
everyone believe that magic existed. It was too
late, either way; I already believed in magic.
It was magic that I got out alive. And it was
magic that my French was good enough to keep
me alive in that situation. I was satisfied,
or shall I say... j 'étais satisfaite, and smiled
all the way to the Eurostar Premier Lounge after
the guy finally let me out with his padlock key.
I was then reminded of my massive car accident
in 2020, on my way to see the children for Christmas,
when a huge lorry joined my lane without signalling
at about 60 mph, and hit the passenger side of
the tiny Merco-Benz I was driving. The car started
spinning in slow motion for half an eternity,
during which I decided to let go of the steering
wheel. Calmly. Unbelievably calmly. I wasn't
afraid. My heart wasn't beating fast, not even
as fast as when a gorgeous man on the tube catches
my eyes. When the car stopped in the middle of
M6 motorway, I sat there, now peacefully, waiting
for the final blow. After the other half of an
eternity, there was no final blow. I turned off
the radio playing Classic FM, turned the ignition
off, grabbed the car key. and my handbag on the
floor, and opened the door from the passenger
side to avoid the first lane on my right. I was
as calm and as peaceful this morning. I have
now learned that it is always there, Paris -- the
calm, the peace, the joy. It's only a matter
of cultivating and maintaining it at every moment,
even when it's supposed to be a challenging moment.
And that, my dear, is the secret of life. Only
joking. There's no secret in life if you're truly
living it. Everything is out in the open when
your heart is open. And my constant learning
is, I guess, how to keep my heart open, moment
by moment. Anyway, enough about me. Only joking.
It's never enough, Paris. When it's truly about
me, it's truly about you too. But my new best
friend Peter shooed me out of his way as soon
as I entered the barge to do this podcast, after
complimenting how good I still looked in this
weather, drenched, and telling me that he had turned
the heating on in my room and that he was going
to deliver his magical ginger honey and lime
drink in a bit. I am so spoiled, Paris. I am
free and I am loved. My cold, which I caught
from walking alone in the Parisian evening rain
a bit too indulgently, has subsided quite considerably.
I feel ready, Paris, for anything. And I will
remember this readiness in me when I encounter
moments that make me feel otherwise. Come what
may, I've got my return ticket to you already.
See you in a few days. londres, le 15 fevrier 2026, je t'embrasse !