I was very reluctant to take up the pen for this newsletter, which falls in the middle of all the public holidays. You'd think the guys had fought the war and then the armistice so that some of them could take it easy. After all, why not ? I'd make my life a series of holidays, during which I'd go to the lake to catch the first light, run in nature, get a massage, practice yoga, eat chocolate mousse at every meal, lounge in the grass, make love in the sun at least 4 times a day and end my day with a nice session of an imaginary Final Fantasy punctuated by the grandiloquent music of Nobuo Uematsu. Some might find this redundant, but I'd be delighted. I'm not afraid of the repeat touch sometimes, even though I fundamentally believe in the need for perpetual surprise.

So you see, despite my fear of not being read because you'll all be on vacation running on dunes, I'm taking up my shepherd's crook to write you these few lines which I hope will delight your behinds. As for me, as this season promises to be a sporty one, I'm in Paris, where I'm secretly working to prepare the perfect shoes for you to tiptoe out of Paris before the Olympics. But does that make me a rightist because I don't support Anne Hidalgo's policies and plans ? No. In fact, if memory serves, the person running against her the second time was Monsieur Molle (Benjamin Griveaux). I might as well tell you that scandal or no scandal, I had very little taste for the communication of the young Macronist wolf whose canines are still stuck in the floorboards of the Elysée Palace.

Nan, there's no doubt about it, Anne is the best possible mayor. And despite her desire to make a name for herself by transforming Paris into the capital of cycling and its users, who all too rarely respect the highway code. So yes, I'm raging like crazy about this new city life, but basically I'm grateful to her for trying to reduce the toxic fumes caused by internal combustion engines.

Still, I didn't want the Olympics, they were forced on me. They hold referendums on the presence of SUVs in Paris or scooters, they could have done the same for the Games. It's called variable-geometry democracy. Because I have to say, between the promised heatwave and the chaos some people are hoping for, I'm not sure I'd want to stay where I am right now. And maybe it's a pity not to take part in this grand barnum, but for the moment I don't feel any need to stay put. 

And for those of you who feel the same way and would be more comfortable frolicking in the meadows of France, or on the Canebière, I've got the perfect shoes to go with them. It's not a question of deserting, but of being aligned with your wishes and feelings. So to make sure everything's okay with you, slip on a pair and see how far they'll take you.

Here's something that will delight your ears for centuries to come :