A room in a forest in a city

It’s time to get up long before we’re ready to get up, but somehow we make it to the station. Kerry manages to drink a coffee, which is just as well, because the whole checking for the train is chaos.

There are three international trains leaving from the same platform five minutes apart. There are no separate queues. Random staff shout unintelligible instructions at random intervals. Manic, confused passengers run hither and thither.

“Are you with SNCF?” I’m asked. “My ticket says InOui,” I reply. “That’s SNCF. Hurry. This way.” We are funnelled down a different queue and end up on the right platform for the right train. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a confused melee. But we’re on our way.

We doze most of the way. Around lunchtime, not having a picnic, we resort to buying overpriced and underrated Croque Monsieurs from the bar. At least they fill our bellies.

In Paris we take the Metro to our accommodation for the night: “au parc Montsouris”. Standing outside a large, locked, blue door to an apartment block, I call our host. He comes and opens the door and ushered us through the lobby to the central court/garden out back.

Our accommodation is a ground floor converted office with en suite bathroom. We have to walk through our hosts current office to get there. And our host and his wife live upstairs. It’s truly weird. But there’s plentiful hot drinks and some chocolate covered ginger biscuits on the table - and the the bed is comfortable enough.

We’re craving vegetables after ten days of meat and fish. Fifteen minutes away, Google turns up Maison Binder (extra), run by two brothers. It’s a rare find and we’re lucky to get there as it opens, because it gets busy quickly.

We opt for their “sharing plates”: beetroot hummus; carrots with feta and honey; leeks with burrata, hazelnuts, mustard, lemon zest; spiced potatoes with paprika mayonnaise. And a bottle of burgundy. It’s really lovely.

Satisfied, we walk back beside the park to our bizarre room for the night.