You've got to hand it to the Frogs. They sure know how to put on a show.
It was Bastille Day in Paris this week and the city once again threw itself into an uncharacteristic frenzy of celebration and happiness.
Proceedings began - as they traditionally do - on the Monday night (the 13th) when the collective forces of the French fire fighting
The Showgirl and I had the good fortune to be invited to a friend's home in the Australian Embassy to watch the traditional Bastille Day fireworks. As luck would have it, the Embassy looks directly over the Eiffel Tower. We're talking so close you can almost see the whites of the eyes of people as they go up in the elevators.
And so we stood, champagne in hand, and watched god only knows how much of our taxes explode in a kaleidoscope of colours against the backdrop of the world's most famous landmark and the world's most beautiful city.
That it also happened to five years to the day that the Showgirl and I had met, also at the Australian Embassy at a function for the Ambassador, only made it all the more special.
Though I still think the best bit about the entire night was the fact we didn't have to sit through the Johnny bloody Halliday concert on the Champs de Mars to see the fireworks. I mean, what does it say about the state of contemporary music in France that a man who dominated the music charts 1960 is still top of the pops in 2009?
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