The New Yorker accepted my invitation to walk the streets of Montparnasse. After spending some time in Montparnasse, a few evenings ago with The French Historian, I was keen to explore the area a little more. Armed with a guide book and map, we headed out to Vavin metro stop. La Coupole, the famous, historic …
2013 was welcomed in with a dinner of foie gras, salmon, cheese to die for, and champagne at Jim Haynes apartment. This was an unusual event. Dinner at Jim’s is normally held on a Sunday, and he usually wraps it up around 11pm but he decided to do a special New Year’s eve dinner for …
Leaving Paris is always upsetting and never easy for me. Feeling lost, walking along the left bank of the Seine, a tight knot was developing in my stomach, as the feeling of dread and melancholy swept over me. Last night, in the company of a lovely Parisian, sipping Beaujolais in the courtyard of the Louvre, with …
I woke to the sound of shopping trolleys, from the apartment above and the street below. Sunday is market day. Jumping out of bed, I walked to the Bastille Markets. It is difficult not to get caught up in the excitement, as shoppers, rugged up against the cold, with shopping trolleys and …
As luck would have it, Christmas fell on a Sunday this year and that meant Christmas dinner at Jim‘s. As long as it is Sunday, Christmas or not, Jim still opens his home and his heart to anyone who wants to join in on the fun. One of Jim Haynes inspirations for his legendary Sunday dinners …
Three of George Whitman’s favourite books were offered to mourners as they filed out from the chapel after his service. The Idiot, Don Quixote and Leaves of Grass. A man who clearly loved literature and shared it with so many, no doubt would have wanted it this way, a parting gift. By the time I …
Jim Haynes in his usual position, perched on a stool near the stove, donning an apron – connecting people Dinner at Jim’s is obviously so good, people come back for more, myself included. Jim Haynes, an American living in Paris, has opened his apartment, every Sunday, since the 70’s, to anyone who would like to …
Today, being Sunday, started out pretty much like most days. Breakfast, although I don’t remember the seagulls, maybe they weren’t around today or maybe, I am familiar with the sounds of my neighbourhood. Red Skyped me from Australia and against my protests, insisted on a video call. Her, with an evening Cointreau and me, with …