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About Toulouse

Anyhow, I’m wafflin’—she’s tappin’ her foot, I’m sweatin’ like a pig. “What’s it to be, blondie?” she snaps. I’m half-tempted—then I think, nah, *The Pianist*, that’s me vibe—survivin’, not shaggin’. “I must play, I must!”—Szpilman’s voice in me noggin. So I leg it—yep, scarper sharpish, leavin’ her gobsmacked. “Bloody toff!” she yells. I’m cacklin’—what a berk I am!

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So, I head over to the Place de la Mairie. It’s this cute little square, you know? Trees, benches, the whole vibe. But when I get there, it’s chaos. I mean, people everywhere! Artists setting up their stalls, kids running around, and a dog—yes, a dog—decided to take a dump right in front of my feet. Ugh!

Pseudomonas aeruginosa in children with cerebral palsy: a prospective study