Queues, Custard and Cats

An unfortunate but necessary aspect of wanting to stay in France for longer than 3 months is that one needs to obtain a residency permit. Yesterday I went to the Préfecture to start the process. Armed with all my possible papers I entered the large flashy building through several metal detectors and made my way to the back. Once I had found the appropriate queue - placed nicely by the side exit in a big cold draft - I took my place and waited, and waited. An hour and a half later I finally reached the front whereby my passport was checked and I was given my appointment time on a little slip of paper. It's not until May so hopefully the painful memory will have faded.
After marching home via the Grande Arche de la Defense - which was incredible! i'll take my camera there soon - I bought custard flan for lunch and ate my irritation away.
I spent the afternoon meeting the other two children and playing cat and mouse in the park. Going to the park is a funny thing because most of the kids are obviously there with a nanny. And the french nannys all know each other and sit there talking while their wards run around. So because I'm the only grownup grubbing around in the sandpit and playing cat and mouse we seem to attract a small crowd of toddlers who want to join in.