New Year’s Eve

As the afternoon stretches into evening, three things happen. Obviously, there are more than three things happening in the universe, but we noticed the crowds building in the Champs Elysee, the temperature dropping to 6c and our tiredness setting in. 

So, we had a nap, then a drink, then tried in vain to walk in the Champs. Tens of thousands of people, queuing for food, standing around, pushing bloody strollers with kids into your ankles. All clad in Melbourne black. Black is the new black here for sure. And so to the people. There are a lot of French speaking Africans here, most looking fairly wealthy if you can judge by the clothes. Also, very many heavily armed police. I’m talking sub machine guns, gas grenades and the whole riot squad in armour and shields. 

Flashy tried to ascertain the make of the weapons and the rank of the cops but got the hard stare as he got too close and didn’t want to end up being frisked like a number of others trying to enter the Champs from a sidestreet. Of course, being French, they had tight fitting trousers and jaunty forage caps. I’m pretty sure the attractive female cops were in make up too.

A short crowd shuffle was enough. So, back to the hotel for a 10.30 pm snack and up to the roof top bar for Champagne while we waited for the lighting of la Tour and the fireworks.

A bit chilly and light rain at the start, but perfect viewing with very few in house guests (mainly American) and so tick the box – NYE in Paris.

Not Cold just drinking. La Tour Eiffel poking out of Lady P's left ear

The crowds in the Champs and La Tour sparkling at mid-night