A Portrait By An Artist

On our last morning in Paris, we walked back up to Montmartre for a view of the interior of Sacre Coeur and the view across Paris from its steps.

We wandered the cobbled backstreets beyond the Place Du Tertre and sat outside a corner bar with a mulled wine, people watching.

Back at the main square, we sat in a restaurant, eating moules frites and admiring this artist at work through the window. He made several unsuccessful attempts to engage with passers-by, meeting all failures with a cheery smile and Gallic shrug.

He was just finding it hard to stifle yawns when he caught this young lady's eye and got chatting. We could tell from the unfolding dumb show that she was reluctant to have her portrait drawn but he smiled charmingly and chatted for a good ten minutes until she eventually took a seat. He continued to make small talk as he drew and we could see his model visibly relax.

The remarkable thing was that this man bore an uncanny resemblance to Tess's late Dad, Ron, when he was a younger man in his 60s before dementia took its toll, not just in his looks but in his hand gestures, the tilt of his head, the twinkly smile behind the glasses, even down to the same style of winter coat. We were mesmerised.

He was still working on the portrait when we finished our meal and left - it was very good.

After lunch, we headed down to the Arc de Triomphe, simply because it was there and we hadn't been yet on this trip. As you can see in extras, the traffic is as manic as ever. (No blipper was harmed in the taking of this photo)

Late afternoon we headed back to the hotel, picked up our luggage and set off back to the airport.