What DO I think I’m doing? Sitting outside Cafe de Flore on busy, classy Boulevard St Germain drinking beer with an Italian friend of mine. He’s no spring chicken and as for me, well the arthritis says it all!
Melo (not his name - he knows who he is!) tells me we must check out the beautiful girls tripping by; it’s his duty as an Italian! But checking out’s not enough for Melo, he tries to talk to them all as well. My chatting up rusted up 50 years ago, but my French is better than Melo’s. Touché, but never touch!