The Pompidou Woman …. a hot August weekend …. and that arts centre

Someone will know the exact name of this piece, along with the artist, but for now I will call it the Pompidou Woman.

The Pompidou Woman, 1981

I came across her with our Elizabeth in the summer of 1981 on a short holiday in Paris.

It was really just a long weekend and as such we made no plans and just wandered across the city.

But given the aimlessness of the adventure, we did manage to encounter the Eiffel Tower, Sacre Coeur, heaps of parks and plenty of interesting cafes.

And amongst the chance discoveries was the Centre Pompidou, which my Wikipedia tells me “is located in the Beaubourg area of the 4th arrondissement of Paris. It houses the Bibliothèque publique d'information (BPI; Public Information Library), a vast public library, and the Musée National d'Art Moderne, the largest museum for modern art in Europe. The Place Georges Pompidou is an open plaza in front of the museum”.*

I am guessing it was that open space which caught our attention with lots of people, sitting around watching the buskers and street performers. 

Dance the day away, 1981

The inside outside building, 1981

You can’t miss the building with its “inside outside” appearance, which shows off all the structural pipe system  which were colour-coded: green pipes for plumbing, blue ducts  for climate control, electrical wires encased in yellow, and circulation elements and devices for safety like fire extinguishers in red.

And from that outside we were drawn in.

I remember it was vey crowded and very busy and like most tourists we just followed the flow, ending up with my Pompidou Woman. 

I took lots of pictures, but few have survived the passage of 44 years, and those that I have were colour slides which have not fared well in our cellar for four decades.

The Gard du Nord welcomes happy and careful tourists, 1981

So, the photo of that woman has gone fuzzy, lacks definition and had already begun to fade, but there is enough to offer up something of her presence.

Looking at the rest of the collection, they have also suffered, but I like the one at the Gard du Nord, if only because it was our introduction to Paris.

I had travelled down from Manchester to London, spent the night in the family house in Well Hall in Eltham and then my sister and I started the big adventure, via Dover, hovercraft and slow train to the City of Light.

I should write more about the history of the Pompidou Centre, suffice to say that it was started in 1971, completed six years later and cost 993 million French francs.

And that is it, except to say suggestions for the correct name of the Pompidou Woman, should be sent via snail post on the back of a 1981 programme of exhibits at the Centre Pompidou.

Location; Paris in 1981

Pictures; Paris 1981 from the collection of Andrew Simpson

*Centre Pompidou, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Centre_Pompidou

Days ...... Paris ... 1981

The pictures of Paris 44 years ago have suffered from sitting in the cellar for decades, but they are a day in that City of Light, before the internet, before Putin and beforereality TV

Dance the day away

Busy Cars

Hot street days

Silly days

Water days

Location; Paris

Pictures; Days .... Paris .... 1981, from the collection of Andrew Simpson 

Lost in Paris …. four decades ago

It is a simple rule which in the past I seldom adhered to.

Busy streets, 1981

And that is …. always record where you were when you took a picture.

At the window, 1981

All of which means that these images of Paris could be anywhere in that city.

The best I can say is that we stayed somewhere in Montmartre in one of those “bijou” little hotels, high on charm, often a tad shabby and relatively cheap.

I was there with one of my sisters and because it was the summer and we were both at a loose end we decided on an adventure in that "City of Lights”.

Neither of us had been there and it all seemed exciting which it was.

In my case a train from Manchester to London, staying in the family home in Eltham.

Then the two of us travelled down to the coast, whizzed across on the Hovercraft, and picked up another train for the Gare du Nord.

And the rest is a long weekend in Paris in August.

Somewhere, 1981

It was hot, we were hot, all of which was confirmed the decision of those Partisans who can quit the city was a sound idea.

As I recalled we did the tourist bits and along the way took in lots that were off the tourist trail.

What is now remarkable but wasn’t then was that it was all done by an old-fashioned travel agent.  He did the lot, booked the various tickets, reserved the hotel which was all done from the office next to Chorlton Post Office.

Anyone who remembers Simpson’s travel agent will remember a place full of posters advertising excursions by train, mystery tours by coach, and those all in one packaged holidays to places hot.

Passing the time, 1981

Location; Paris

Pictures; unknown and unremembered places in Paris, 1981 from the collection of Andrew Simpson

Hot August Nights in Paris ………….

 We were young, single and adrift in the City of Lights.

I say young, but I was 32, and I was with my sister for a long weekend.

And it was hot.  Nothing quite prepares you for how hot cities like Paris can be, and while holidays on the Greek islands and Calabria can be hotter, it’s the tall buildings and busy streets which seem to trap the heat.

Of course, those Parisian who can leave for their holidays, so we rubbed shoulders with other tourist, who like us wanted to catch the sights, and absorb the culture.

It being August meant that some of the places of interest were crowded and in the case of the steps up to Sacre Coeur reeked of urine and discarded scraps of food.

Still, that is what holidays are about.

And at night we took to the streets which seemed busier and more chaotic than during the day, and if anything, just as hot.

I could at this point list the sights we visited, and those we didn’t, but one person’s holiday stories are someone else’s yawn, so I won’t.

Instead, I will just fill the post with pictures of hot nights following the crowds and dodging the traffic.

And given that it was now nearly 44 years ago it is sort of history, which is of course what the blog is all about.

Location; Paris

Pictures; hot August nights in Paris, 1981, from the collection of Andrew Simpson 

Françoise Hardy …….. Les Garçons Et Les Filles

 I was saddened today at the the news of the death of Françoise Hardy.

I go alone through the streets, 1980

If you are of a certain age Françoise Hardy will have a special resonance.

In 1962 when I first heard Tous Les Garçons Et Les Filles, I was instantly transported to that Paris of chic fashions, narrow streets and grand buildings but also of teenage romance and angst.

"All the boys and girls my age

Walking down the street two by two

All the boys and girls my age

Know well what it is to be happy

And eye to eye and hand in hand

They leave in love without fear of tomorrow

Yes, but I go alone through the streets, my soul in pain

Yes but I go alone because no one loves me"

And then with the news of her death l began reading about her life and made that uncomfortable discovery that her politics were very different to mine.

She was to the right of the  centre with some questionable positions on eqaulity and antisemitism.

All a bit of a disappointment.

Pictures; Paris 1981, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

*https://www.google.com/search?q=tous+les+gar%C3%A7ons+et+les+filles+paroles+youtube&oq=&gs_lcrp=EgZjaHJvbWUqCQgAECMYJxjqAjIJCAAQIxgnGOoCMgkIARAjGCcY6gIyCQgCECMYJxjqAjIJCAMQIxgnGOoCMgkIBBAjGCcY6gIyCQgFECMYJxjqAjIJCAYQIxgnGOoCMgkIBxAjGCcY6gIyCQgIECMYJxjqAjIJCAkQIxgnGOoCMgkIChAjGCcY6gIyCQgLECMYJxjqAjIJCAwQIxgnGOoCMgkIDRAjGCcY6gIyCQgOECMYJxjqAjIPCA8QLhgDGI8BGLQCGOoCMhEIEBAAGAMYQhiPARi0AhjqAjIRCBEQABgDGEIYjwEYtAIY6gIyEQgSEAAYAxhCGI8BGLQCGOoCMhEIExAAGAMYQhiPARi0AhjqAtIBBi0xajBqN6gCFLACAQ&client=ms-android-samsung-ss&sourceid=chrome-mobile&ie=UTF-8&chrome_dse_attribution=1#fpstate=ive&vld=cid:3bc24f79,vid:XPkBMqehr5k,st:0

Two south east Londoners out in Paris ......... 1980

Now, as holidays go it was an impulsive and short one.

I was in Manchester, our Elizabeth still in Well Hall and the summer in both cities was dragging, and so on the spur of the moment we decided to head off to Paris.

It was the first time I had been out of the country as a grown up and if you had to go anywhere abroad the City of Light seemed a good choice, after all from Eltham it took us less than a day.

That said years later when I flew from Manchester; we were there in an hour.

But of express trains, ferries and suburban French rail shuttles are adventures made of.

And arriving at the Gard du Nord was magic, as was the trip to Montmartre and the modest hotel.

We were there in high summer when Parisians who can, escape the city and its stifling heat, leaving those wide boulevards and poky side streets to an avalanche of tourists.

Some of my friends maintain you must always have a plan when visiting a new city, which involves a bit of research, one of those open top buses and a list of things to do and see.

These days that is what we do, but back then through a mixture of arrogance and laziness I didn’t, preferring an aimless wander which at times got us hot and bothered.

But on occasion it did lead to surprises like the Pompidou Arts Centre, and Sacré-Cœur that tall church which is a popular landmark.

If there is a defence of the aimless wander it is that you soak up the atmosphere of a foreign city, which is miles away from Eltham or the streets of Peckham where we spent our earliest years.

And if that sounds a little pretentious, well I guess it is.  But when all you have known about Paris, is what you picked up in school or from the telly, walking the city is a revelation.

I can’t now remember where we encountered the animated discussion between the two friends and certainly have no idea what was being said, but the older of the two had had enough and stared off into the distance lost in her own thoughts.

What did strike me on that hot August day was just how many people were just sitting watching the city pass by.

Many were on their own, and seemed contents to enjoy the moment in what the Italians call “the sweetness of doing nothing”.

For a while we joined them, taking it all in before blundering off another adventure to somewhere unplanned.

Location; Paris

Pictures; Paris, 1980, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

“We will always have Paris” ..... part 2

Now there is something bitter sweet about recreating a photo that you took nearly 40 years ago.

And I am guessing some will mummer why would you want to?

After all apart from me and my companion I doubt that anyone would be interested in how a little bit of Paris has changed over four decades.

The surprise is not a lot.

I am looking out from an upstairs window of the Grand Hotel down on to the Place de l’Opéra with the Opera House off to my left.

It took a bit of time to position myself at the right angle but with the help of street google I did it.

The building opposite me is still there and the shop Lancel still holds a prominent place in the block.

I have to confess that until now I never knew that they sold “bags, small-leather goods, accessories, travel bags and luggage for Women and Men” operated at the luxury end of the market and had been going since 1876.

Back then they specialised in selling pipes and other accessories for smokers developing a whole range of products for women smokers including cigarette cases and purses moving into leather, and  launching their first handbag collection in 1902.

Now given that we are in one of the fashionable bits of Paris that shouldn’t have surprised me.

The rest of the shops from 1981 have not survived.

The little tabac business had become a Currency Exchange shop and the other two have also morphed into something new.

Sill as they say I will always have Paris and of course those lampposts.

Location; Paris

Picture; Place de l’Opéra, 1981, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

“We’ll always have Paris”* ..............

The year was 1980 and on a whim, I took off to Paris for a long weekend with our Elizabeth.

We saw the sights, including some of the seedier bits, had some fine meals and just got away from our respective cities.

The sun shone and it was very, very hot, which I suspect is why those that can leave Paris in August do so.

For me it was the first foreign city I have ever visited and as you would expect it made an impression, although, long ago it was eclipsed by Rome where “at the end of every street there is a piazza and around the corner an ancient ruin”.

But Rome will be for another day.

I did the usual touristy pictures most of which were lost a long time ago.

But some of the negatives survived in a corner of the cellar where they have rested for forty years.

And amongst them were the “lost Paris collection”.

I knew I had them but long ago had forgotten just what they were off.

To my surprise there were very few of the usual scenes, and instead most were “ordinary” shots of Parisians getting on with the daily stuff, catching buses, sitting on benches and walking to the shops.

I can no longer recall what made the man on the Boulevard Des Capucines suddenly turn and stare or for that matter what he did next.

Nor have I clue why I chose to take the picture at that precise moment.

What I do know is that today I would think twice about taking the photograph of the group of young people enjoying their lunch.

Never snap people without their permission and never take pictures of people under the age of 18 has become a rule and quite rightly so, but the passage of 38 years makes it pretty impossible that I could now seek the collective agreement of those in the three pictures and so I will chance it.

Location; Paris

Pictures; Paris 1980, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

*“We’ll always have Paris”, Rick Blaine, Casablanca, 1942, Captain Piccard, Star Trek, The Next Generation, 1988, various book and song titles

Revisiting favourite places with a twist of history ............... nu 2 Paris

An occasional series which just aims to reflect old places and places with a story.

We were staying at the hotel opposite the Opera House

Picture; Paris, 1980, from the collection of Andrew Simpson

“We will always have Paris” ....... Part 4 .... from the Eiffel Tower

When you visit Paris, there will be a moment when you end up at the Eiffel Tower.

And so did we, and much against my better judgement we went up.

I did tale the usual tourist pictures, which everyone takes, but I also took this one of a group of young visitors.

Location; Paris

Picture; the Eiffel Tower, 1980 from the collection of Andrew Simpson

Paris ................ a long time ago

It was one of those short breaks to Paris which coincided with my first proper camera, a Pentax K1000, SLR.

So good was the camera that I bought a second a few months later.

I continue to have a strong affection for them, and they travelled all over Europe, sitting in the back of boiling hot taxi in Athens and dropped beside a babbling brook on a cold winter’s day outside Buxton

And with the camera I began to master the joys of a dark room along with developing and printing the pictures.

As much as I felt grown up it was all rather hit and miss and after a long break between taking pictures when, I started again it was with a digital camera.

I suppose I should also comment on the trip to Paris, but it was so long ago and anyway after Paris there was Rome, and that as they say is a love affair that I have never lost.

Location; Paris

Picture; Paris 1981 from the collection of Andrew Simpson

“We will always have Paris” ....... Part. 3 .... alone on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées

It must have been a quiet day on the Avenue des Champs-Élysées because apart from a lone cyclist I seem to have had the road to myself.

I can’t now remember why, but I know on a return visit we were just about cleaned out of all our cash after purchasing a coffee and croissant each at a cafe facing the Arc de Triomphe.

Location; Paris

Picture; the Avenue des Champs-Élysées, 1980 from the collection of Andrew Simpson

Paris ................ a long time ago

It was one of those short breaks to Paris which coincided with my first proper camera, a Pentax K1000, SLR.

So good was the camera that I bought a second a few months later.

I continue to have a strong affection for them, and they travelled all over Europe, sitting in the back of boiling hot taxi in Athens and dropped beside a babbling brook on a cold winter’s day outside Buxton

And with the camera I began to master the joys of a dark room along with developing and printing the pictures.

As much as I felt grown up it was all rather hit and miss and after a long break between taking pictures when

I started again it was with a digital camera.

I suppose I should also comment on the trip to Paris, but it was so long ago and anyway after Paris there was Rome, and that as they say was a love affair that I have never lost.

Location; Paris

Picture; Paris 1981 from the collection of Andrew Simpson