Welcome to Music Month! DAY 1

Sue me, I've been inspired. 3 days of watching Glastonbury on the telly box on the comfort of my settee  has reminded me how much I really love just listening to music, and need to expand on my musical, hypothetical, horizons.

So, starting today on this blog there will be 31 days of music related posts in conjunction with, you know, the usual ramblings that I post. You'll be seeing my song of the day (SOTD), gig memories, playlists, guilty pleasures and plenty plenty more. AH I'M EXCITED! I'm also trying my best to persuade my brother to film a video for me too; he's an amazing guitar player and I like to show off his talent despite my lack of.

If you want to keep my with the posts, I'm on Bloglovin' which you can follow by clicking here or the picture of the arty naked lady on the right. I'm also on twitter  and will be posting a couple of links on there too! Keep you're eyes peeled!

Have a lovely day,
Josie xo

The Reeve Guide To... Paris - Day 1

 

Maybe, just maybe I've had he busiest day ever. Ok, maybe not ever, but I feel like could now  probably sleep for 3 days, after all, I do get worn put like a toddler.

Finally I'm back in Paris! The home of art, romance and great coffee and cake. Why wouldn't you want to be back here?! This time, instead of a school trip I'm going with my family, so I might actually get to see Paris this time and not just Disneyland and odd shopping centres. Not that I didn't enjoy the last couple of  times I've been here, but its completely unstructured this time. And I'm excited about that.

The Eurostar journey flew by and before we knew it there we were in the wildest taxi ride. If anything would want to put you off driving ever again it's a taxi in Paris. Cutting corners, running though red lights, narrowly dodging pedestrians and watching car scraps left right and centre. In hindsight it made me realise that not everyone is the same as London where you wait for the green man before crossing the road, in Paris you run for your life.

As the taxi was speedily winding around the roads, an artisan district emerged with cobbled streets. There were shop stalls of cheese, fish, meat, 101 bakeries and cafes all companied with bustles of people weaving their way around the stalls. It felt like we were in a bit of a time warp, 50 years behind the rest of the world. It was pretty beautiful.

Up a little hill and there's our apartment with the slightly very eccentric owner. Everything in the apartment is a little 'temperamental'; the locks on the bathroom, the keys in the front door, the boiler, the satellite on the telly. But to be quite honest, I'm going to be sleeping under a chandelier and that's never happened before, so already I've decided I may never leave.

Suitcases down, and we're out the door again. I think that's what happens when I go on holiday with my Dad, he's got this ridiculous habit of not being able to stay still for longer than 20 minutes or so.

After some exploring of the local area around Montmartre, and quick view of the Eiffel Tower through the mist, we headed for the Louvre and went via the tube, or the metro, which sounds far more French and fancier. Obviously, we headed straight to the Mona Lisa by Da Vinci like every other tourist that goes into that art gallery. Maybe this is me being a bit young and very naive to the ways of art, but I found it somewhat underwhelming considering you have a painting of the last supper which is bigger than my house on the adjacent wall. I can appreciate art and the skill of Ms Lisa, but with all the other beauty in other pieces around the gallery and exhibitions I think to go only to that painting you would seriously be missing out, as I know a lot of tourists do. I don't know, maybe I need to research it before I slate it.

At this point of the day, I think it was safe to say we were exhausted and hungry and began to navigate our way back to our tiny apartment and more importantly, dinner. From the metro we ended up walking everywhere. I mean the Sacre Coeur is set on the highest point in Paris. We walked up that hill. I'm telling you, I looked like a wreck; out of breath, cold but over heating and without doubt starving. Thankfully we found a restaurant, Chez Eugene in the square near to the church. Hearty traditional French food, cheesy cabaret (who sung Robbie Williams and The Carpenters, what a winning combination) and deranged décor. I'm talking confetti on the ceiling and merry go round horses.

A strange day: waking up in suburban London and about go to sleep in the heart of Paris was only  topped off by a glimpse of the Eiffel Tower all lit up in the night sky. Which was something I won't be forgetting in a long while.