Now I know how Jesus feels. The other day I turned mackerel into whisky. I think this is probably on a par with a certain trick performed by Jesus, possibly even more impressive, considering mackerel and whisky are considerably more different, physically, than water and wine. [I know that sounds arrogant, but, y'know... I did...]

Well, actually I didn’t really. I merely returned a very large amount of bulk-bought tinned mackerel, which, after repeated testing, turned out to be from a dodgy batch [we ate five tins of the stuff, all of which were a bit tasteless, dry and generally unpleasant] to Sainsbury’s. A rather unimpressed customer services woman treated me as if I was a naughty child for several minutes. I managed to completely keep my cool throughout this. I know my rights. Plus I was wearing loads of eyeliner. Eventually, reluctantly, she gave me a Sainsbury’s Gift Card [because I didn't have a receipt] with the equivalent price of the mackerel on it. I then exchanged this for a bottle of whisky and felt very pleased, given that my bank balance wasn’t going to stretch to it otherwise…

I think this is what people mean by liquidating your assets. Sort of.

I have managed to get myself to Paris. I realised that this is, at the age of 27, the first time I’ve ever gone abroad on my own. I was kind of slightly proud of myself, slightly anxious about it and also rather unimpressed that I was feeling either of these things given the facts that I’m supposed to be an adult and that catching the Eurostar is really not that big a deal. It was extremely easy and there was even free wifi for a good a portion of the journey.

I did not notice the Channel Tunnel. There were several tunnels on the way down the UK portion of the journey and I think when we went through it I was furiously typing a magazine article; the only reasons I was aware that we’d gone through the main one were a) Someone announced it over the tannoy, and b) suddenly a great deal more people seemed to be speaking French. It was as if they’d been slightly nervous about doing it in England but now were in France so it was OK again. I kind of wondered whether I should be doing the same, but my French is rather basic and appalling, although I have been trying [more on this subject later].

The train pulled into Paris Nord and I noticed this fantastic thing: they have double-decker trains here! I stared at these quite a lot. Then noticed my reflection in the train window, looking like a slightly mad wild-eyed person, and tried to look a little less amazed by them. I mean, in the UK we have double-decker buses. It’s not a hugely new idea. But! It’s such a more efficient use of space.

I was met at the station by my friend Sophy, who has just moved to Paris. We ran through some rain to a cafe, where we got beer and coffee and met another friend, Trevor, who has also just moved to Paris. They didn’t know each other prior to this, but I introduced them via Evil Facebook, which apparently does have its uses [outside of mildly stalking people on your friends list who you then do not communicate with because you haven't spoken for ten years anyway so why are you going to start now? This process is also known as Wasting Time].

Anyway, we hauled ourselves back to Sophy’s via a supermarket which provided us with beer, and had some mackerel and listened to music. Tomorrow I will attempt to detail what happened today, but right now I am really quite worn out after all the walking, of which there was a great deal. I know I don’t have to type with my legs, but their fatigue has reached other parts of my body and I don’t think valerian tea or even whisky will need to partake in any aspect of my imminent falling asleep.

I might have a bit of whisky just because it’s nice though…