Back from snowy Brussels, where I've been involved in some meetings largely conducted in Flemish. I can just about track the main conversation, as long as it is sprinkled with useful keywords.
Then back to the airport, where the plane was missing from the jetway and eventually back to Heathrow where the jetway was missing from the plane.
The last part was a small advantage, because the bus took us straight back to the main T5 instead of the B Terminal, where you have to catch that little shuttle.
Now I'm up to 12 of 14 in the songwriting thing, I feel compelled to write two more to get to the full set. So here's number 13, about a model romance in Paris.
Met you in that nightclub Rue St George
You talking to me of Voltaire
You with all those art school credentials
Made eyes and love as if you really cared
It was a model
It was a model
Romance
So together we took the Fifth Arondissement
Je t'aime, amour, along the Seine
Somehow you worked your magic
Paris together, Sorbonne, fantasy.
It was a model
It was a model
Romance
But one day you started looking different
Gauloises smoke, your head was turned
His plastic form of dressing
Synthetic as he struck the pose
Plastic model
Plastic model
Romance
That's around the last time that I saw you
You quietly melted away
You found your plastic lover
Left bank, left me, misery.
No more model
No more model
Romance
It was a model
It was a model
Romance
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