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 close to 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 faster 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 written ticket to you already.
See you in a few days. londres, le 15 fevrier 2026 je t’embrasse !