Along the Seine, thousands of Parisians were pounding the pavement in the annual marathon. Not these Parisians though. They were lazily kicking back as the weekend drew to a close, with the temperature a most balmy 25C.
Swapping from Parc Monceau to Jardins des Plantes in an attempt to identify the trees of Paris, I failed abysmally. I need to find either a book or a website, to enable me to compare images that I collect during my sojourn in this most marvellous of cities.
Being sans hat, I did enjoy the meander down the avenues of Plane trees - one down either side of the central plantings of shrubs and flowers. And, yes, I did stumble upon the carousel.
I did enjoy the green-overalled beefy chap who let rip with a blast from a shrill whistle if one rode a bicycle rather than pushed it. Or if one stepped onto a piece of lawn more sacred than another piece. He got my attention each and every time.