Do you have something you'd like to say?

I will try and drag myself away from the piles of Bride and Wedding magazines for a couple of minutes to try and finish off the mammoth job of describing what will now officially be called The Week Where I Learned How To Literally Float On Air.

I think I left off around the time we started to get ready for dinner in Paris on Valentines Day. I had a few suggestions of where to go for dinner (thanks Karina!) but Conrad seemed to have a different plan. He looked up the best 20 restaurants in Paris and decided on one of them - the Restaurant De Palais Royale. In order to get to it, we needed to get off at the Louvre Metro and walk our way through the gates of Palais De Royale and through the peaceful, dim-lit arches surrounding the gardens. The atmosphere was so old-worldy and electric around the gardens - It felt like we had arrived onto another century.

The day was just turning into evening as we arrived - the sky creeping into a deep metallic blue colour. Conrad had decided beforehand that we should doll ourselves up and make it an eventful night. He explained it as an excuse for him to wear his suit and buy a brand-spanking new tie and for me to wear my favourite baby-doll dress and boots that I can never find an occasion for. We haven't ever celebrated Valentines Day the whole of our relationship, so he said this would be the Valentines Day we made up for all the rest of them.

I was swept with an overwhelming nervousness as we entered the granduous walkway to the restaurant. Conrad was acting suspiciously quiet and smug, making me feel slightly on edge and full of confused anticipation. This was truly the most elegant, romantic restaurant I had ever been to in my life. I felt so adult, so confident, so blissfully worthy of such an amazing venue for Valentines Day.

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The waiters were probably the most friendly that I have ever had - the table had a card addressed to us saying 'happy valentines' in French and a small silver-plated heart that we could take home as a keep-sake. The dinner was absolutely outstanding - Traditional French food with a modern kick.

I don't think we talked much throughout dinner. Conrad still had that wistful look in his eyes with a strange sparkle showing up every now and then. Whilst eating our deserts and ordering cappuccino's, his face gradually got paler and more ghost-like. When the table next to us left, he got a conspiratal face and sort of stood up and made his way over to my side of the table.

I started giggling.

He sat next to me and we just looked at each other. I just wouldn't stop giggling. I don't think either of us remember much of what was said those first couple of seconds. I think he said 'do you know why I've come over here' and I think I giggled a little bit more.

He brought out a little box.

He said something along the lines of 'let's do this properly'

Getting down on one knee next to the table, he opened up the ring box so I could peek at it's sparkliness "Rachel LastName, would you would marry me?'

Now this is where I would like to have paused, played it cool pause.. contemplate.. leave him wondering why on earth I hadn't said yes yet.. soak in the moment..maybe cry a little bit..

What really happened was I grabbed the ring out of the box, shoved it on my fourth finger and exclaimed a loud 'Yes' a little more adamently then was particularly necessary.

It was absolutely perfect. If anyone asked me what the perfect way to propose to me would be, it would have been this. The ring that he had chosen was exact to my taste like I had chosen it myself.

I'm sure anybody who knows me outside of blog-world understands how much this meant to me. Conrad and I have always had a different view of marriage - I have always wanted to get married early and bumble through life trying to figure it out the hard way. He is more English in the way that he wanted to be 1 million per cent sure and to be old enough, mature enough, confident enough to be sure that this really will be it; that when he puts that ring on my finger I will be wearing it until we are 110 years old and can be an heirloom for our grandchildren.

Little did I know that when he did decide on marrying me, that he would be the best fiance ever, be the best wedding-planner ever, be the best counter-part to me ever. That he would do his utmost best to make up for all of my waiting and wondering.

I truly do have the best fiance in the world.

So after our 3-course meal and proposal we made hushed but excited phone calls to our parents, each time trying not to cry or choke on our chocolate truffles. We wandered down various avenues to the most Parisian brasserie we could find, ordered champagne and sorting through plans that had been kept inside our heads for months - writing guest lists on napkins and making plans for musicians that would never dream of doing somebody's wedding.

Well I think that's enough for one post... And I didn't even fit in the Eiffel Tour and Notre Dame! I shall have to post again soon..

**Apologies for quality of photographs - the old camera phone isn't so great at night**

So this is what they call Walking on Clouds

I'm quite reticent to speak of this past week on my blog. I can't help but think that once I start writing it out, the magic will be spun like an intricate web onto my blog and out of reality. The positive nervous energy I feel might just float out and stick to the screen and be out of me forever. I never want to stop feeling as full of love and happiness as I do right now.

*sigh*

There is also so much to say about the past 7 days. I had such a good time that when we got in the black cab at Waterloo to go home, I couldn't for the life of me think of our address. I had become so detached from reality. When we got off the train in Waterloo and I saw the Millennium Eye in the background, I completely burst into tears. I wasn't sad to be home, I wasn't sad to be back in reality - but as I was stepping off onto the platform, I looked down at my hand and saw that the ring was indeed still there; That our engagement and whispered plans were not just part of a black and white film script. My full-up heart swamped with Paris and Valentines, roses, lit-up Eiffel Towers and beautiful cliches. Conrad kept having to repeat 'will you marry me' over and over again every place we went, so I actually got it firm and strong in my system. This wasn't a crazy dream, he hadn't just had a little bit too much to drink - my dream had become a clear, undeniable, ring-wearing reality.

So now, my friends I will give a little summary of Valentines Week in Paris. It's going to be tough deciding which memories to share and which pictures are best. I love them all - the tiny moments where we peeked around the corners and realised we were closer to Notre Dame then we first realised - the moment I was sat there realising I could definitely live happily in France, the moment I saw millions of paparazzi swarming around in the restaurant and realising I had just laid eyes on Sharon Stone...

So many.. To give you a little bit of background, this was my forth time in Paris. My first was at the age of 12 when I went with an 'honour choir' to sing with International Schools all over Europe. The second time was with my family.. I think I was 13. Third and forth time was with Conrad 5 years ago, and then 2 years ago. We decided to take in the more relaxed side of Paris - explore the worlds of cafes, brasseries, restaurants, walkways... We had already 'done' all the major tourist attractions, so it felt good just to wander and see where our excited legs would take us.

So we caught the 5:00am train from Waterloo, blinked our eyes and arrived in central Paris. Conrad slept the whole time and I dozed a little here and there. It took less time to get there then it usually does to go visit my folks on the other side of England. Crazy.

Our first port of call was the Sacre Couer. This is the one area of Paris that I hadn't spent much time in before; Montmartre. It's the highest point in the city and has breath-taking views of everything, including the Eiffel Tower. The cloudiness and wintery day just made the views more moody and romantic for me. (from now on, I will try and refrain from using the word 'romantic'. It doesn't even sound like a word anymore to me..)

We then ambled along the cobbled streets, dodging crazy Parisian drivers and popping into boutiques here and there. We eventually ended up buying our first piece of art together in a cute little art shop specialising in scenes of Montmartre, little scenes of cafes and cobbled streets.

We couldn't help but draw comparisons to the film 'Amelie' as many of the scenes were shot around the Sacre Couer.

After stopping here there and everywhere for half-liters of table wine and cups of over-priced coffee, we stumbled upon a candle-lit brasserie type place where the menu and atmosphere looked extra-ordinary. Conrad and I have a bit of a love affair with French food. I can't get enough of it, I dream of it, and even when I've eaten so much I feel sick I keep over-endulging my gutt with it. So to say we had a lovely dinner would be a major understatement. Dinner consisted of fois gras (so creamy!) on soft white baguette followed by a massive old hunk of beef (crispy on the outside, delightfully pink on the inside) with blue-cheese sauce and pepper sauce respectively. By the end of this 'light' meal (on our standards) we were already full - so upset that we couldn't have an after-dinner treat of cheeses.

After dinner we decided to go see the Moulin Rouge building. Having walked about half way there and seeing massive buildings with 'Sexodrome' and 'Live Peep Shows' every other building, with ladies thrusting there who-knows-what at me, we promptly realised we were in the red light district at prime-time red light time. A little flustered and taken aback, we doubled back on ourselves and decided day-light be more of an appopriate time to explore these little avenues.

The next day we woke up pretty late to a slightly rainy Valentines Day. We decided to "wander down the Champs Elysees" and (of course) I had to sing Joni Mitchell the entire way down. Because "I was a free man in Paris.. I was unfettered and alive.. Nobody callin' me up for favours, no-one's futures to decide.." Actually, I think that's the only reason we went there - so we could sing that song.

I realised while walking down there up towards Concorde, looking back and seeing the Arc De Triumphe - February was a nice time to visit Paris. The streets were empty, I felt like we were the only people in the world.

The misty rain settled a kind of happy peacefulness over the city. It was nice to have to cuddle up for warmth and take refuge in a warm side-walk cafe. This time round we wandered through the Louvre gardens looking for the perfect baguette place. And we found it. Right around the corner from the Louvre, we had the best baguette with ham and cheese and pickle. If I died right after my baguette, I would have been a happy woman.

I'm afraid that's all I can write for now. My fingers are starting to twitch, and my ring is too sparkly for me to concentrate. Ha. Just had to mention my ring at some point in here..

I'll leave you with a couple other points I noticed at Paris this time round that I hadn't noticed my other trips - You can also call this 'a few helpful tips':

• When crossing a road, do not assume that the walking green man means you won't get run over. The cars pretty much wait till you start moving and gun it right at you. A common phrase that we would use is 'run for your lives!!'
  
• At any point in the day you will see at least 3 people walking down the road with a long baguette. Nothing in it - just a long baguette. More often then not, they will be chomping down on it like it's the most natural thing in the world.
• As a lady, when excusing yourself to go to the restroom, you say that (in English, because I never took French class) you're excusing yourself to go to the 'little corner' - petit cour.
• Parisian women seemingly do not have larger feet then size 40. If you ask for a larger size in a shop, the sales lady/gent will laugh at you in your face.
• The Metro has a tendency to smell like farts. More specifically, baguette farts. My conclusion was that because so many people eat baguettes, and lots of cheese, there is a constant aura of baguette-fart smelliness. I'm not kidding.

• 
  
• The Eiffel Tower is on it's own in the middle of nowhere. There's no accidentally stumbling across it - You have to trek across all of Paris to get close.

Stay tuned for the conclusion of our Parisian heaven.

I got engaged in Paris

I'm very happy right now, floating on clouds.

More details of Paris to come!