Ad nauseam.

Saturday morning happenings in no particular order:

*A friend calls in great agitation. Her dog has been hit by a cyclist on the pavement.

*The lift in our building is out of order. The doors are broken. Someone has been sick inside.

*Two winos sit in the children's playground part of an otherwise empty park. They swig from bottles. Children watch.

*The sand pit is full of rubbish.

*There is dog dirt right outside our back door.

*A cyclist on a 20kg Vélib' jumps a red light.

*A motorist ignores a pedestrian crossing.

*Demonstrators march down the Boulevards. The roads are blocked.

*I reflect on my friend's suggestion we complain to the mayor about threats to life and limb on Paris' pavements.

*I think: Good idea. We will fall about with uncontrollable mirth at the very idea next week. Probably in front of the mayor.

*The estate agent is closed. Again.