I'd Rather Live Precariously In

Prescription For Writer’s Block: Fear Of Poverty.

The Funny Thing In France Is That Writers Are Not Allowed To Retire, Because The French Government Say You Are Still Earning Money From Books You Wrote 20 Years Ago.

Good Manners Make Any Man A Pleasure To Be With. Ask Any Woman.

I Have A Terrible Weakness For Collecting Snatches Of Other People's Conversations, And Occasionally I'm Rewarded With Unusual Fragments Of Knowledge. My Favorite Of The Day Came From A Large But Shapely Woman Sitting Nearby Whom I Learned Was The Owner Of A Local Lingerie Shop. 'beh Oui,' She Said To Her Companion, Waving Her Spoon For Emphasis, 'il Faut Du Temps Pour La Corsetterie.' You Can't Argue With That. I Made A Mental Note Not To Rush Things Next Time I Was Shopping For A Corset, And Leaned Back To Allow The Waiter Through With The Next Course.

The Day When A Frenchman Switches From The Formality Of Vous To The Familiarity Of Tu Is A Day To Be Taken Seriously. It Is An Unmistakable Signal That He Has Decided - After Weeks Or Months Or Sometimes Years - That He Likes You. It Would Be Chulish And Unfriendly Of You Not To Return The Compliment. And So, Just When You Are At Last Feeling Comfortable With Vous And All The Plurals That Go With It, You Are Thrust Headlong In To The Singular World Of Tu.