Sunday 30 May 1999. Once we had left the coach on the Boulevard de Rochechouart, we passed a line of sex shops and live shows that all the men would have liked to see and all the women were determined we wouldn't. We made our way excitedly towards the highest point in Paris.
After climbing through narrow streets to Rue Tardieu we saw the gardens and the 237 steps up to the church of Sacré-Coeur (Sacred Heart). "Stop worriting about those sex shops, Mildred," muttered one of our party, looking in dismay at the long series of steps, "I've changed my mind..."
One look at all the steps leading upwards made some of the party look left towards the funicular railway, but then first to start springing up the steps was Edna, whose 86th birthday it was that day. Everyone else followed... Buskers were at work on the steps, including one hopeful who was trying to get people either side of him to sing along in competition with the other side! Reportedly Sacré-Coeur is not the favourite Parisian monument with the locals... The stone secretes calcite whenever it rains and thus bleaches the outside, leaving it the eye-catching pure white that is seen above. At least one guide book condemns it simply: "The interior is cavernous and little else. You'd do better to stay outside on the terrace..."
We did venture inside (not having taken the guide book with us!) and there certainly was not much to stick in the mind except what I can only describe as bouncers on the door...
There was a rather spectacular view over the city from the top of the terraces. We are about to enter the area of Montmarte and the artists' quarter. The ladies are once again asking if anyone knows the French for "cup of tea laced with bromide".
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