Julien. Place de Fourvière

He couldn't believe his luck. He just couldn't believe his luck. He'd wanted one of these for Christmas but his mother had told him that he was simply too young to have one. Now he had one. What could have been a boring day wondering around some boring old catherdal listening to some old fool waffle on about windows, ghosts and stonework had just turned into some quite magical.


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He found it under a pew. He'd just wondered off leaving his parents nodding and asking the old chap about a stain glass window that had once been removed. He'd sat down and prayed that it would be over soon; that he would be able to go home and lock himself in his room. Then he spotted it.

He bent down and pretended to tie his shoe laces, took it and slipped it into his jacket pocket. He stood up and rejoined his parents. Julien had just bagged himself an iPhone.