Grand Prix de Paris

Fewer posts this week because of fewer hours awake with free time. The WPT Gand Prix de Paris is in full swing at the Aviation Club in Paris. I'm here, and so are the elite of France's obstinate waiting staff, gathered from around the country after months of auditions to convene on Paris's best casino and piss off several hundred foreigners.

Actually, it's not that bad. Well yes it is. But maybe I'll go into it another time. Instead I'm trying to explore Paris, collect new memories and not get sick. The first bit is going well, the last bit not so good.

Some warrior-like smoking on day one means my throat feels like a scouring pad. Smiling, yawning and coughing feels like spewing up glass. But how else can I look sophisticated sat writing in zinc bars, brasseries and the casino lounge? Smoking comes with the territory in these parts, I have no option but to give it my best.

So day three today. 135 players left, some of whom will smell bad after the first two levels. But it goes. This has been my favourite event so far, working alone, starting late and enjoying long dinner breaks eating good food. Also trying to work out ways of saying "another coffee please" without sounding repetitive.