It is raining in Paris. It has been all day. Milhous and I invested in a couple of parapluie and set off bravely in the direction of the Center Pompidou for our daily dose of culture. When we got there, dripping wet, there was a long queue snaking soggily across the front of the building. The piazza, normally filled with street performers and an admiring audience, was damp and deserted. We repaired to a cafe and ordered a bottle of champagne. There is more than one way to absorb French culture.