The view from my window. Are you jealous?

These few days have been heavenly. But my mother is joining me tomorrow, which means no smoking, relinquishing the double bed, less shopping and certainly no French men.

I have just been out to a few bars - I wanted to go to the Fifth Bar and the Student Bar on the rue Mouffetard, but they were packed. Le Crocodile on the rue Royer-Collard likewise. Instead, L'Authre Bistro on the rue des Écoles, Wos Bar on the rue St-Jacques (excellent Gin Fizz), and Le Gay-Lussac.

I met a man today called Nicolas. We walked around the 1st arrondissement together. He had excellent English.

Yesterday, I was serenaded by a man in a thrift store in the Marais. He had classical music playing in the shop, and he grabbed my hand and twirled me round. I bought a dress from him. These French men! I told him he was a cliché, and he laughed.

I bought some lingerie today from Orcanta on the rue Halèvy, métro Opéra.The saleswoman was incredibly helpful, speaking slowly and trying to help me understand. I love lingerie shops in France - the saleswomen just put their hands on your boobs, muse and then say, 'Ah! I think that you are a size so-and-so'. I asked her what size she thought I was, not knowing the word for bra, and she looked at me shrewdly and said, 'La poitrine?' and placed her hands on my breasts. Now I know what size I am in France, and I own a new negligée and a gorgeous red bra. I think the only thing I said in that shop was, 'Peut-être en rouge?'

When I arrived on Wednesday, there was an incredibly hot man doing some maintenance work next door. The water was off. He kept having to come in and test my taps and play with some switches. He kept winking at me. Damn GCSE French for not teaching us how to seduce en français.

I have spent far too much money on clothes, and have been eating frugally. I am living a cliché myself. Eating only cheese and bread from the local boulangerie, and cheap red wine. Writing in cafés, reading, buying books everywhere I go.