Spring in Paris means blue skies, blindingly bright sunlight, the occasional citron pressé on a sunny terrace at lunchtime, Parisians shedding their black winter coats and venturing into the occasional splash of colour, flowers blooming everywhere.
I take longer to get to work in the morning because I can't resist burying my nose in the cherry blossoms.
I put away my winter shoes and pull out my sandals with glee. My feet are free!
Spring also means that I have to wash my feet as soon as I get home. Sandals are lovely, but the amount of grime you get on your feet as you walk around Paris is staggering.
I like the analogy that Paris as a city is like a crazy old aunt who, for all her oddities, you just can't help but love.
I imagine her getting dressed up for Spring, with flowers and sparkly jewels in her hair, but underneath the pretty sandals, she has grimy feet too.
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