A picnic in the Bois de Boulogne

In the UK, the sun can be a little shy. It's like a timid quivering deer, peeping out cautiously from around clouds and then scooting away again as if afraid of the pasty, eager looking little Brits yelling "come on you bugger where are you!?".

This has it's downsides, ruined BBQs, summer holidays at the beach spent huddled up in coats etc. But, on the plus side, us Brits really know how to make the most of the sun when it appears.

Which is why, on the first sunny weekend of 2012 I was bouncing up and down in my apartment almost ready to pop with joy at the prospect of a couple days of actual real bona fide only need to wear a t-shirt and shorts sunshine.

And which is why, at 10.30am on a Sunday in MARCH I was shivering a little as I shopped for Pimms (you can take the girl out of middle England...) and fruit to take to a picnic in the Bois de Boulogne.



The Bois de Boulogne is one of the two woods that can be found on the edge of Paris. It's famous, mainly, for prostitutes. Say you're going to the Bois de Boulogne and it's possible you'll be met with a Carry On style "ooohhh".

And this is true at night (apparently), but during the day it is a picnickers paradise. Minus a functioning toilet block but hey, this is Paris.

Having summoned my friends with a war cry over the rooftops of Paris (and a message on Facebook), we met at Porte Dauphine metro laden with baguettes, crisps, more baguettes and more crisps, some booze, a few old bed sheets and...la pièce de resistance...a whopping great strawberry tarte from the bakery. There aint no picnic like a Parisian picnic.

Happily installed on a grassy area next to one of the boating lakes, we lay back, chatted and surveyed the scene around us.

Joggers clad in frankly ugly lycra sweated as they stumbled past, cyclists swerved to avoid ambling pedestrians, couples rowed boats on the lake (I sincerely hope that poetry was being quoted) and children ran around shrieking at the sheer pleasure of being outside and having space to play in.

The hours ticked past and my shoulders started to relax after months of being hunched up against the cold.

Spring really is my favourite time of year. The first little samples of warm weather and the hope and anticipation of more to come.

And a picnic in the Bois de Boulogne is definitely on my list of things to do again (and again and again).

PP