Ailing in the Paris of my dreams

Reasons not to be cheerful - part one. Feeling a bit sick and down in the dumps. Went to a mega party last night out in the rich suburbs of Paris (yes I am still here) and the tree lined streets were a sight to my very sore eyes. I gagged a bit in the Cuisine and during a hefty bout of wrestling with a vixen called monique I think I broke a rib. And I do not have a spare rib. I feel weary, almost ready to jack it all in and go back to Barking and Bob and the new baby and Sharon - Oh god ! no No No - they tried to send me back to Barking but I said No NO NO ! I will cough a bit more blood, lie limp and regurgitate my supper but I will also bounce back. As I lie here in my bedroom pontificating onto a laptop while feeling grim and pale - I have decided to resurrect myself like a Jesus of now, I will lead the meek into the nerest bar and order a round of their finest Beaujolais and smoke Bensons. Notice I did not say Bordeaux - I just cannot afford to blow my money on he Claret too often - not the really expensive stuff that tastes like the nectar from the pearly gates, pressed by gods big toe. And so I stay in this romantic city for some time and more driving myself down into my inner soul - and I think to myself what a wonderful whirl of emotions are circling around my brain. Goodnight and God press grapes for me tonight in my dreams ...