bleu

“How nice he is! How gallant! Why the boy’s a bit of a ladies’ man already: he takes after his uncle. He’ll be a perfect gentleman,”, she added, clenching her teeth to give the phrase a slightly British accent. “Couldn’t he come have a cup of tea with me sometime, as our neighbours the English say? He need only send me a ‘blue’ in the morning.”

Travelled to Paris. Sent you some pictures. Visited the Shakespeare and Company book shop.

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Bought some Proust. Seemed like I had little choice.

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Learnt, on the tram home today, via the footnotes to the above quote, that a ‘blue’ was an express letter transmitted by pneumatic tube within Paris.

Learnt, later, at my desk thirty minutes ago, via bloglines.com, that Matt Webb’s latest post – a wonderful collection of slides from some recent teaching he did – covers the very same topic.

See slide 26 of Fictional Futures. Better yet, read the whole thing, it’s a rich seam of ideas.


There’ll be more on Paris. Probably more Proust. In the meantime you’re welcome to peruse some of the other pictures I took: Paris, April 2006.

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