Alas, we had to rally and get some energy from somewhere because Saturday was Gay Pride, Paris style. And before the parade there was shopping to be done!
So, we headed off to the Marais via my local shops on Fbg St Antoine, accumulating bags as we went. In fact, the shopping trip was nowhere near as damaging as the previous day's visit to the Blvd Haussmann sales had been. Although, amongst the crowds and the heat I did manage to pick up the most beautiful pair of silver All Stars with 40% off. Too lovely, I'm sure you'll agree.
Anyway, shoes aside, we tootled round the Marais then headed over to join the parade at the pont de Sully, so that we could walk with the floats on the final leg up blvd Henri IV to the place de la Bastille.
Trust me when I say it was hot. Trust me when I say it was crazy.
Despite the huge crowd and the blazing sun, we managed to dance our way up to Bastille. Our fellow marchers were friendly happy and generally all out to have a great time. The streets were lined with spectators and it seemed that truly all walks of life were there - from straight families with kids to gay couples and big groups of friends, and not forgetting the occasional Parisienne grandmother, looking on in bemused, elegant amazement.
Hot, sweaty and desperate for a cold drink and a sit-down, we arrived at the square and decided that we should head back to my apartment - in theory a five minute walk from the end of the parade. I say in theory because, in their infinite wisdom, the police had cordonned off my street - no doubt in an attempt to stop the fabulous gayness from spreading.
The nice police lady who was refusing me entry into my street did say she'd let us past if I could prove my address to her.
I handed her my rainblow flag to hold and started to root through the TBNIL manbag.
It was only when I looked up at the policewoman to explain that no, there was no ID in my bag did I realise how fantastic this picture was.
She was there, in full riot gear and with a face like a bulldog licking piss off a nettle, holding my rainbow flag. She didn't seem to be happy about it. It seemed to amuse her colleagues though.
I guess it was no way to impress her, and so we had to find a different way home. Instead of the five minutes it should have taken, it ended up being a 20-minute schlep round the back streets. But hey, a bottle of champagne, a cold shower and a comfortable sofa was waiting when we finally got there.
Suffice to say, it didn't take long before we were refuelled, recharged and ready to party....