J-J Pierre's Parisian Friday (5-6)

Little J-J Pierre is French and he lives in Paris. 

He loves ‘lait Fraise’ and he likes to sit on a street cafe terrace, sipping from a frosted glass, watching the world roll by.

On a Friday after school, his ‘Maman’ will order him a portion of thin, salty French-fries, with a little pot of mayonnaise to dip them in.  For herself, she’ll order steaming hot, black coffee and two brightly coloured macaroons.  Then they’ll sit together, side by side, gazing at the people walking by. 

Some rush past, their eyes glued to the pavement, determined not to be delayed a moment longer than necessary.  J-J Pierre likes to imagine that they have secret missions to attend to.  Spy-like missions, involving spy-like gadgets and spy-like cars.  He supposes that they have ‘Top-Secret’ documents in their briefcases, and voice tape recorders in their pockets.  He wonders if their pens are really memory-wiping tools and if they use their lunch boxes as walkie-talkies.

Others wander aimlessly, sometimes looking at maps, sometimes glancing up in to the sky as if to be led by the clouds.  Those, he has been informed by Maman, are ‘Tourists’.  They come to see Paris’ beautiful cathedrals and galleries, its famous river and the world renowned ‘Tour d’Eiffel’!  J-J Pierre likes to try and get in to the background of the thousands of photos they take.  He likes to pull a funny face or make bunny ears behind the many posing faces.

Then there are those that swagger casually by, with their noses held high up in the air.  Fluffy, snooty dogs on long strings of ribbon, skip along at their heels, turning up their snouts at the many things that displease them.  Those people wear smart, colourful blazers with wild, silk scarves and they talk in ridiculously loud voices.  J-J Pierre wishes they wouldn’t speak so loud when their friends are standing so close beside them.  These are his least favourite kind of people and he wonders how they can see where they are going with their noses held aloft!

When J-J Pierre is really in luck, Maman will ask the nice waiter – a tall, thin man in a long white apron which reaches from his belly to his toes – to bring a sticky 'eclair'.  This he eats as slowly as possible, with a miniature silver fork, relishing each and every sweet, delicious mouthful.

Once he has scooped-up every last crumb and Maman has finished the last drop of velvet black coffee and paid the bill with a handful of notes and coins, they brush down their laps and walk slowly home.

Those are the best Fridays for J-J Pierre!  French fries, pink milk, cake and time with Maman!