I'm not moving to a place that's named after a nursery rhyme character.

On Wednesday, someone shared a link of Facebook about the discovery of a "Goldilocks planet." That's a planet whose orbit around its sun makes it not too hot, not too cold, but potentially "just right" for life to develop. Within an hour the link attracted a large number of comments, some humorous, some political, about who should pack their bags and move to this other planet, twenty light years away. That's the inspiration for this week's Weekend Assignment


I'm just not. It's silly.

Plus they almost certainly won't have WiFi. And I bet getting pork products and the teas I like will be even harder there than it is in Turkey. So no. I'm staying put.

There's no place like home

  I've lived in a few houses. My dad was not a fireman or anything like that (they tend to move a lot, don't they?) and I don't think I'm a big traveller, but I was born in my parents' house in the suburbs of Paris, a lovely house, big, with a small garden that had a big tree. I left it when I was 4 years old and yet I remember it as my real home.

After that I moved quite a lot, I even stayed at my grandparents', moved to my boyfriend's tiny studio flat and finally, at the age of 17, to Paris. We lived in the 7th arrondissement, near the Invalides (we were lucky, it was cheap and cosy) for five years.