Monet, Monet, Monet ...

We went to The Orangery to see the Monet exhibition that has eluded me the last two times I was in Paris as I always seemed to be there on a Monday when it would be closed. I don't think it needs a lot of explanation. We also got to see an American exhibition there too and there is a snap or two here from before I was told there was no photography. Woops!!

These snaps do absolutely no justice to the mammoth paintings so apologies up front

I was so surprised at being told off I didn't get the names of these artists. But easy enough to find out if you're interested.

After the Orangery we made our way to Pigalle. The suburb better known for its Bohemian history, at the foot of Sacre Coeur. The Moulin Rouge is just down the street and the streets were once frequented by the likes of Henri de Toulouse Lautrec. The little French impressionist painter whose stunted growth was because his Count father and his mother were 1st cousins; his grandmothers were sisters. Anyway, I digress, he was famous for living amongst this red light district and painted the girls of the night and moulin Rouge until his untimely death at the age of 36.

Today it's become a fashionable, if not still slightly Bohemian, centre of artistic pursuits and the home of my favourite bakery; Rose Bakery. A few years ago I indulged myself and bought myself a cook book called Rose Bakery: Breakfast, Lunch, Tea. I have used it numerous times and the recipes are all fail safe and superb. When I came back to Paris in 2011 with Edward I searched out the bakery and we had a couple of goes at trying the freshly baked items. In 2014 again, with Ollie, I made a number of trips to work my way through the selections. This time I dragged Melinda to my sacred place for afternoon tea and we had the Linzertorte and the famous carrot cake with a hot chocolate. I was a bit miffed as the bakery had changed and had been refurbushed. When I enquired they've expanded to another two outlets in Rue de Martyrs and adjoining streets. Phew. I thought it was no longer producing the same delightful array of salads, cakes, slices and preserves.

We finished the day with dinner around the corner at a Parisian burger joint. Nothing like Macca's.