Today I am happy and relieved for my “Innocent Flirt…” book has been reviewed by Create-Space and gets the thumbs-up. Hooray! I have ordered the proof copy and if that looks okay my book will be available in paperback quite soon! At last, after all the editing, the amendments and cuts, not to mention the misery of staying in for most of the week learning to master Word functions, I can allow myself to feel excited about it.

Would you like to read the composition that my sister wrote many years ago, after our wonderful trip to Paris? She sent it to me in an email two nights ago and I found it so beautiful that it moved me to tears. Mary captures perfectly our first morning together in Paris, not just awakening to the sound of birdsong and the atmosphere of the city, but also the excitement and the special bond between sisters…

This morning I was awakened by birdsong, and I turned to share it with you, but you weren’t there and I felt so lonely.

The birdsong reminded me of Paris. Do you remember?  We had such a beautiful five days there. I don’t think I’ll ever forget that morning. It was very, very early and the birds just sang.  Not the usual chirping, but true birdsong.  It was the birdsong of romance.  The birdsong one can only dream about.

We slipped out of bed and opened the shuttered windows so we could hear it the more. The whole thing was beautiful.  The room was calm, bathed in the soft morning light and we whispered as we revelled in the song and the thrill of being in Paris, such a beautiful city.  A breath of a breeze caught the lace at the window and filtered the sweetest air.

Paris seemed so still then.  All the vivid activity of the city had ceased.  It was as if everyone had stopped to let the birds sing and fill the air with their song.

We lay awake and talked softly and before we realized it, Paris was wide awake, the hum and buzz of the city was beckoning us.

Breakfast was brought to us by a smiling black woman. She greeted us with a beautiful “Bonjour” and we returned her greeting.  How I wished I could speak Francais as well as you.  I really felt as though I belonged in Paris, although normally I don’t have any affection for cities. I don’t know what it is about Paris;  the architecture, the river, the beautiful bridges, the language or the Parisians themselves.

Do you remember when we bought the scarves from that tiny shop at Tuileries?  I can just see the girl now carefully gift wrapping our inexpensive presents.  It’s strange how such a simple task as buying a scarf can remain so vivid a picture.

And the fun we had at Montmartre, buying all those sexy French swimsuits –we bought six  and it was February!  I honestly don’t think it would be the same if we went again.

Those few days with you were magic. I wish I was artistic and could recall those memories in a beautiful way. If only, I could just write well. I was so very happy those few days.  I’ll always treasure those memories. Thank you for coming with me.

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I think Mary can write – don’t you?