I joined the ranks of the Paparazzi this week as I wandered along the Odeon section of Paris and was nearly crushed by a gang of supermodels. Normally they would be running away from the press, or so you would imagine, but in this case they all seemed to by running towards them. It was funny to watch them get out of their rented limos and wait for the flash of lights to hail upon them. Digital photography might be free, but the paps were not wasting their shots. The odd flash here and there, but they were obviously waiting for someone else. And then she arrived. She was about 7 foot tall in heels and had not a pick of meat on her. I do not know who she was, but I was tempted to give her the name of the great restaurant I ate in the night before in Montpellier. The paps went crazy and shouted her name – Nadia ( or Danielle ). Hard to hear it as they were shouting so loudly. If anyone recognized her, please let me know.

The sad thing was, even if she had spotted me and invited me into the party, I was about 15 minutes away from the full extent of food poisoning – and it was about to hit me very hard. It was from a dodgy sandwich on the TGV. I was to spend the next 12 hours in a small hotel room going from the bedroom to an even smaller room… many many times. But I am home and my appetite is back and Nadia or Danielle will have to party without me.