By Order of the British Empire

We are all sick. The boys have been coughing for weeks already and I can’t seem to get off of an airplane without being diagnosed with consumption 3 days later. So this week has been filled with nothing but amoxicillin, honey and lemon. But that doesn’t mean we haven’t been enjoying our little sick ward…

We had fun surfing the interwebs looking for the perfect hotel to stay in in Paris for the one night we’re there before we head to Provence.

We ALMOST thought to splurge and stay at the Ritz for one night just so the baby could have his first official swimming lesson in their over the top, ridiculous pool (see photo below). A friend of ours smacked us back into reality by reminding us that’s what photo-shop is for. Fine. Kill my dreams S.S. Meanwhile we found a much cooler (cheaper), chic hotel in an area a little more conducive to our lives. I suppose in my next life when I need a Mercedes S class to meet me at the plane door, I can call on the Ritz then. Hotel La Belle Juliette Paris is what we decided on because they have a little pool, but we came close to staying in this hidden little gem Hôtel Particulier Montmartre.

Fabrice Rambert, Courtesy of the Hotel Ritz Paris

Next, we have found ourselves one degree away from Her Majesty the Queen of England, not just once, but 3 times! We decided it’s a sign that things are looking up.

1—We had a visit from our friend from England. He is a scholar, author, curator, Oxford man. He is in New York to set up an exhibit on Percy Bysshe Shelley at the New York Public Library and we just think that is so cool. We went to lunch and then took a little jaunt to the Apple Store where he kept repeatedly referring to his Blackberry. He realized his error and said he suddenly feared for his life, that he knew the omnipotent Steve Jobs must have heard him somehow. But then he relaxed as he recalled saying something out of place when he was having tea at Buckingham Palace and no harm befell him.

Me: (WHAT? Tea at Buckingham Palace?)  Oh how lovely, how often do you have tea at Buckingham Palace?

Him: ‘Twice a year.’

Me: (Twice a YEAR?)   Oh, I assume you’ve met the Queen personally?

Him:  ‘Well, I do all the books for the Royals, but I don’t think she knows who I am.’

Me:  (WHAT? All the books? That’s crazy!) Oh brilliant. Let me ask you, are you allowed to look her directly in the eye when you speak to her?

Him:  ‘Of course! But you musn’t turn your back on her. That would be considered rude.’


2—As I was looking up some information on a certain ‘Producer’ who shall remain nameless, I stumbled upon Michael’s colleague’s name, the one we are going to visit in Provence. And as it turns out, he was knighted last year. (!) He is now a Sir. So Michael sent him an email to congratulate him and then asked if it was alright if we turned our backs on him if we promised to do it slowly, so as not to startle him.

3—Michael was coming home from a jog around Central Park when he sees none other than Sir Paul McCartney

(that’s right, also knighted (!)) stroll in front of the Museum of Natural History with one of his granddaughters. The world weary Michael, friend to celebrities, knights and aristocrats, loves Paul McCartney so much and was so excited and freaked out to see him, he hid behind a tree. That’s right, Michael was so googly eyed he hid behind a tree, and there he pretended to stretch so he could just stare at his idol until he faded away into the sunset…

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