Almost 7:30 p.m. I walked over to the Centre Pompidou, via the Ile de la Cité. I thought I would go by the Flower Market and tell the gardener thank you again for the catalpa-weed he kindly let grow for me, all year, and gave me free, that I had planted and labelled it on my little back porch and that I might even find someone to water it when I am not here, so it will survive the summer heat.
But there was band music coming from the Place Louis Lepine, between the Prefecture de la Police and the marché aux fleurs (which had turned into a bird market for the day), and it was not resistible, not for me and not for a crowd of other people either. It is the Journée du Patrimoine, the day when monuments that are normally closed are open, and this was part of it: a concert by the Orchestre d'harmonie des gardiens de la paix, the Harmonic Orchestra of the Keepers of the Peace, aka, the police. Who'd have guessed. The youngish conductor in a band concert uniform, with braid, had a wicked smile, he bounced, just the right amount, he moved his fingers delicately, they were having a wonderful time, and we were too. It was hard to tear myself away.
And now I'm home again, but I stopped in at the church and caught part of a tour of the Delacroix chapel by a witty and dramatic young man who had stories about the Knights Templar I am going to have to do some research on, and now I'm making some tomato sauce for my spaghetti and there's some singing seeping out of the church.