Paris is known as a walking city. The ideal playground for me who at 34 weeks pregnant still feel extremely active, brimful of energy and truth be told, desperate to take some leave from the tedium of office life. After all, I have noticed that my back aches in the main when held prisoner-like, stationary and at my desk, slumped over my computer, while at work. Rarely do I moan of back troubles when walking or while in the throes of social or cultural pursuits.
The only antidote to pregnancy pain (and concomitant desperation for a vacation) I could fathom at this point in time was a trip to Paris.
For a few glorious days during a Northern Autumn, and heavily pregnant, I take leave from work and fly the friendly skies bound for Paris. Seahorse gave the nod of approval (as did our doctor and most critically, Erroll) so off we flew…
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