A Very Expensive Arrangement in Paris


“It’s blocked.” said the incompetent boy who failed to carry my bags up the stairs.

“Why?” I asked facing towards the toilet but trying not to look directly at it for I knew the sight of an overflowing loo would not sit well with the two chocolate croissants that I had just consumed.
“I don’t know, Madame” he said with a look that quite frankly implied that I knew exactly why it had decided to cark itself mid flush.
It was 9 in the morning and this broken toilet situation was starting to interfere with our plans to go shopping at Galleries La Feyette. I was not happy.
“So when can it be fixed?” I asked slipping on my boots and getting ready to make a quick escape to the closest Metro station.
He looked at me blankly before walking outside to speak to his mother in French.
The girls were all sitting in the living room with their bags on their laps waiting to go. I walked out and shook my head.
“Just give me a couple of minutes.” I said trying to take control of the situation.
A few moments later the boy who we had now nicknamed ‘The Boy’ and his mother, ‘The Caretaker’ walked cautiously into the living room.
She said something to him in French and The Boy proceeded to translate in his little snobby French boy voice.
“In order for me to fix you must tell us what exactly was flushed down” he pointed down for extra dramatic effect.
We all looked each other and shrugged.
“Nothing out of the ordinary.” One of the girls said.
The caretaker spoke to her son again and then he went bright red. He shook his head.
“I don’t know how to say..” he mumbled half speaking to his mother and half speaking to us.
She appeared to hound him until he pulled out his iPhone.
How rude, our fabulous Paris plans have been delayed because of their shitty toilet (literally) and instead of fixing it he’s just started texting.
Finally he looked up from his phone and started stuttering, his accent even thicker than before.
“Mmm… me…. men…”
We all stood in silence, intrigue.
“Me… me… menstral?”
Menstral!!?
“Maybe it was a ta… ta… tampon?”
TAMPON?!
I tell you what by this stage the poor boy was redder than a menstral and a tampon.
Although I knew that two of the girls were on their period I felt as though I shouldn’t tell incase we were deemed liable for some bizarre reason. But I wanted the toilet fixed as soon as possible and despite the fact that The Boy was obviously a useless slave to his mother someone needed to put him out of his misery.
“Yes a tampon could have possibly been flushed down.” I said really emphasising the possibly.
The boy looked relieved but the caretaker looked seriously pissed off. The Boy concluded by telling us that now they knew what it was they could send someone around to fix it, for the time being we were to use the public toilet down the hall.
As they were about to go and we were well and truly ready to leave The Boy stopped and said one last thing to me.
“This type of toilet is very expensive,we will aware you of the arrangement when we know.”
All I knew was the only type of expensive arrangement I was going to was Galleries La Feyette.And so we did.

After we indulged in some H&M, Sephora and a boutique where I scored a divine gold cuff (pictured at the very top of the page) we decided to have a bite to eat at the famous, Cafe de la Paix.

It has been said that if you sit at Cafe de la Paix long enough you are bound to run into somebody you know…

Why hello old friend!

The red wine/chocolate eclair combination has been a favourite of mine since the beginning of time. The price however is something I am not familiar with. Almost $17 for an eclair, no! It’s not worth it. Or is it…
And for dessert…
I present to you…
The Arc de Triomphe and the teeny, tiny Eiffel Tower!
I’m so damn happy to be in Paris!
Now quickly just one more picture! We need to find the closest Metro…
I really need to go back to the apartment to…
Oh no.
Miss P
About me

Heaven on Bourke is a lifestyle blog created by Miss P, a twenty-something author of a Pleasure Guide pamphlet most commonly found in luxe vibrator boxes. True story! She loves to travel between her beachy hometown of Noosa and London's upmarket Notting Hill, where she writes a smut column for a lingerie empire. Off duty, Miss P brunches in the city and dates many interesting characters. All findings on real life, sex and love are recorded in this honest lifestyle blog for your viewing pleasure. Enjoy gorgeous!

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