The Paris Rental

My Hotel Peculiar

Today, Father told me a family secret.

The secret is very old and very special. That’s why I’m going to start keeping a journal.

I’m writing everything down, because I want to remember this time in my life.

I’m writing in English, because it is good practice.

Also, because everyone in my family must speak and write perfect English.

We are French, but Father demands we master this second language. He says English can be useful.

The woman meant to say H?tel Particulier, but she said it wrong.

She wasn’t very smart.

When I asked Mother why she said it that way, she told me the lady was in her cups. I didn’t understand, so she told me it meant she had too much Champagne which made her silly and confused. As I wrote above, not very smart.

And Maison Marteau is a bad place to be if you’re not smart.

Many things have happened here, in my family home. Special things most people would never understand.

But this is another reason I want to keep a record of our story. My story. So, I’ll start over, from the beginning. The beginning for me, at least.

I’ll start with the party.