The first time I met Vivienne, I was unpacking my suitcase, and she was opening a bottle of wine and torturing the room service staff to find us some food. (she works for the hotel, so it wasn't really torture, more like good-natured teasing to challenge them to feed us on the sly...)
It was November, I think, and the room I was going to be staying in for the week had not been occupied for some time. So Vivienne, very helpfully, tells me that I should get out my hot water bottle (La bouillotte, as she would say) and tuck it into the bed now to take the chill off the sheets.
Well, I was NOT travelling with une bouillotte at the time, which didn't terribly surprise her, and so it passed from my mind.
Fast forward to living in ... View the Post