Spent a night in Paris at the Napoleonic era Hotel les Jardins du Trocodero. In trawling through accommodation options on the web, this one had a distinct point of difference... Yes it was located virtually at the foot of the Eiffel Tower and near the great museums of Paris, yes it had a hairdryer (you may mock, but this is a prerequisite when one is off to a wedding), yes it had air-conditioning (it was 40 degrees outside!), and yes it was decorated with period furniture. But the best feature was this: artists from the École des Beaux-Arts have painted murals of the muses throughout the hotel. Yes!
Imagine my dismay then, when after jumping in and out of the lift to see which muse occupied each floor, I found everyone except the best muse of all...Calliope. She, the muse of heroic poetry - the wisest and most assertive of the nine muses - was nowhere to be found. And sadly, the only place in this lovely hotel entirely lacking in charm was at the front desk. When I asked the manager where Calliope was he gave me a dark stare and a brusque 'I don't know!'.
Sigh.....perhaps he was a wannabee writer too? I guess I'm not the only one in this world calling for Calliope.
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