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Back in my 20s I spent some time working in Paris for the French electricity company, EdF, that we represented in the UK.
It was my last weekend in Paris and I met with a French colleague for a wander around the Marché aux Puces. I’d never been before and it was on my wishlist. I don’t remember much of the flea market but I remember the bar where we sat down for a drink. I suspect mine was a Diet Coke.
There was music playing. The bar had seen better days. In the middle of the room was an area with hard flooring where people were dancing.
A thin guy with bleached blonde hair, wearing a waistcoat and cravat approached us. He wasn’t the kind of man I would have considered taking home to meet my Mum! He asked me if I would like to dance (in French, of course), and I said No. I’ve regretted it ever since.
It would have been a moment, a memory. One of those crazy magical things that happen in Paris. Something that I could have looked back on and remembered. Instead, the story ends there. And I will forever wish I’d said Yes.
Thirty years later, I still have the image in my head of the guy. Like a moment captured on film. It would have just been a dance. I think of that missed opportunity often, especially when I might hesitate now to seize the day. And remind myself to just do it, have that moment, make that memory.