Under the English Channel

Paris has been hot this week: dry hot, humid hot, unexpected sunburn hot, chilly in the morning hot, the whole range. In the absence of air-conditioning my husband diligently opens all the windows to cool the house each morning, before closing the shutters to keep out the heat during the day, a surprisingly effective system I refused to accept until years into our marriage but now strictly adhere to. Under the blazing sun it’s peak season at the market with berries upon berries, stone fruit, watermelon and Provençal tomatoes just begging to be taken home and enjoyed under a cloud of burrata and a drizzle of balsamic glaze so dinner has been a variation on salad and fruit all week which compliments the weather perfectly.

I joined a friend for apéro hour at her new apartment that seemed designed to…