Notre-Dame de Paris

Fondly do I remember a particular afternoon in 1901 when I had the pleasure of standing at the very top of this marvellous building, looking over the city. There was just the right amount of wind, and a cute little moth even perched on my finger. I daresay it would have been the perfect afternoon, if it weren’t for the escaped mental patient claiming to be Napoleon Bonaparte, blocking the entrance with his army of cyclists and waiting for me to come down so they could lynch me for a burglary I didn’t commit. (In all honesty, my experience at the 1885 World’s Fair should be enough to tell me I should never go to Paris without a bodyguard.)