Angouleme revisited

Between my trip to England and Ireland, and then again to France, I was in a bicycling accident. A pedestrian, texting, stepped into the bike lane. Though I was going fairly slow, when I swerved to missed her... ended up on the ground. My pant leg torn open, my knee bleeding. My coworkers were kind enough to cut my pant leg off and clean me up. One took me home to change and to medical. Nothing broken! 

But that's why I was wearing the brace. I hobbled into Pepe Jeans in Paris, told this lovely sales woman "Je ne parle pas Francais" when she asked if she could assist me, and walked away with two pairs of skinny jeans. En route, the fellow adorable fellow next to me chatted me up. That was nice. 

Meanwhile, Xavier was locked out of his AirBnB and spent the night sleeping outside. The story was too sad not to draw! And later still, grousing (with joy) about how the walk from Marie-Claud's place to the city center over the past decade of trips to Angouleme...