Contrary to what you might think, I didn’t get killed by Juneathon. I actually did keep up the daily exercise challenge for a few days into July, until my butt decided that it really needed a rest day and planted itself in a chair for the duration.
But then I went on holiday to Paris and Fitbitted 170,000 steps in a week, so that was a good fried leg of a trip.
Ever the fun-loving parent, I hustled the kids along on a trip to a Paris cemetery.
Pere Lachaise Cemetery to be precise, AKA the one with all the famous dead dudes.
Look, you can rub the crotch of this grave and it aids fertility (I didn’t bother). Who needs Disneyland when you’ve got Pere Lachaise?
You can’t do that at Jim Morrison’s grave.
So then this happened:
That’s Oscar Wilde’s grave in the background. In the foreground I’m holding a picture of me sitting on Oscar Wilde’s grave the last time I was in Pere Lachaise, 20 years ago.
Don’t think about it for too long. It’s a bit meta, I know.
More to follow on our Paris trip. Not all involving famous dead dudes.