Tuesday, 28 October 2025 – The Grand Departure
Some may ask why Fiona? Originally it was just Jasper and I but then Fiona kicked off because I’d taken Kurt to Prague, she’d not had a jaunt and had never been to Paris.
Up at the crack of sparrow’s fart. Collect Fiona and Jasper, who look far too cheerful for this time of day. Preston Station’s only claim to fame seems to be their buffet, during the First World War was a welcome retreat for the soldiers going to war. Sadly it doesn’t seem to have been touched since then, a place where caffeine and patience go to die.
Pleasant enough trip to London Euston. Notice the can of G&T Fiona is knocking back, Will I survive this alcoholic trip? Then it’s a glamorous five-minute trudge to St Pancras. Immigration? A breeze! Apparently, the much-heralded new EES system isn’t ready yet — shocker. But they did manage to wear my passport out by inspecting it three times. Bureaucratic brilliance: “Yes, that’s still my face.”
Waiting area: utter hellscape. Speaking of which, Jasper’s looking a shade of green that Crayola should market as “Eurostar Sick.”
Train itself? Surprisingly civilised. Everything on time — must be a clerical error.
Paris arrival: buy Metro tickets via what can only be described as a state-sponsored endurance test. Then a quick ride and short walk to our apartment, which is, mercifully, not a shoebox.
Dinner at a stereotypical French café called Mon Café — points for imagination. All that was missing was René from ‘Allo ‘Allo! handing us baguettes with a knowing wink. Food was good, wine better. Day survived.
Wednessday, 29 October 2025 – Culture, Chaos & Cocktails
Leisurely start. Jasper’s navigating today, under protest, because apparently Google Maps is beneath him.
Metro to Notre Dame, which is heaving with tourists. More bodies than the Kaaba at Eid. Hop on the Big Bus Tour — the universal badge of “I have given up trying to pretend I’m local.”, but a great way to see Paris.
Get off at Trocadéro for our Seine cruise. The area’s sealed off for the President’s visit — clearly, he didn’t get our itinerary. Priorities, people: the tourists are paying for all this nonsense.
Cruise was lovely though — Paris looks best when you’re sitting down and someone else is driving and especially when seen from the river.
Lunch at a boulangerie. I also spent quality time on the phone with EE because my mobile, as usual, decided France was a bridge too far. Solution: turn off an eSIM. Why does it always feel like defusing a bomb?
Back on the bus. There’s a woman who keeps asking where we are. Might help if she looked up’ listened to the commentary or used the map provided.
Evening: Fiona discovers Lidl. You’d think she’d found the Holy Grail. Buys wine, St Emillion, that turns out to be dangerously drinkable.
Pre-dinner wine and cocktails lead to us being half-cut before even reaching the restaurant — can you believe it’s an Italian, naturally, because why eat French in France? Fiona gets the hiccups; Jasper and I are in bits. I tell her aniseed liquor will cure it. It doesn’t. She’s unimpressed.
Walk home in the rain, under a bright pink umbrella. Tres chic humiliation.
Thursday, 30 October 2025 – Eiffel Tower
Autumn in Paris! Start the day with something flaky and buttery — Fiona’s 39 today, and we’re celebrating by failing to get Louvre tickets. Website only offers Friday slots. Excellent. Plan B? We don’t have one.
So we wander toward the Eiffel Tower with ham and cheese baguettes like true locals. Queue for an hour, guided by a woman who charges triple for trivia that is freely available on Wikipedia.
Up 677 steps — apparently my fitness tracker thought I’d climbed Everest. Turns out, not as hard as feared. Maybe the French air helps or maybe being at 7,000 feet has helped.
At the second floor, we join yet another queue for the lift to the top. By now it’s dark; the view’s spectacular. Another queue to come down to the second floor, naturally — this is France, not efficiency boot camp.
Dinner mission fails on the Eiffel Tower to celebrate Fiona’s birthday (too much fish). Walk down to the ground floor rather than fester in another lift queue. Why is going down always worst than going up – must be yet another age thing. 
My new Merrells have turned on me — left foot agony. Can you believe that nearest Metro to the Eiffel Tower is apparently in Belgium.
Dinner at Tres Frères: decent steak kebabs, I orders snails for the table. Jasper and Fiona triy them and he regrets it immediately. Fiona gets a surprise birthday candle and sort of cake — Jasper redeems himself.
Friday, 31 October 2025 – Louvre, Moaning Lisa, Booze, and Done
eakfast at the boulangerie, naturally — the pastries are now a personality trait.
Off to Jardin d’Acclimatation (or as Jasper calls it, “the French theme park”). Fewer screams than Alton Towers, but fun nonetheless a good choice on Jaspers part.
Then back to the Louvre — the underground Carousel entrance spares us the queue. Inside is a maze of statues and more broken pottery than Muslims at a stoning. We elbow through the scrum to see the “Moaning Lisa”, who’s about the size of a postage stamp.
Escape the Louvre before developing museum rage. Catch the Eiffel Tower’s nightly sparkle show, then Metro back.
Dinner at The Globe: beef bourguignon, wine (again), café gourmand, and a cognac because why not? It’s not alcoholism if it’s cultural.
Nightcap across the road, then bed. The end is nigh.
Saturday, 1 November 2025 – Farewell, Paris
Up again at sparrow’s fart. Metro to Gare du Nord, passport checks to ensure the French have indeed seen the back of us.
Eurostar back — comfortable, punctual, civilized.
Avanti to Preston — cramped, hardly any luggage space, overpriced, and mildly traumatic. Nothing says “Welcome Home” like £6 for a miniature bottle of wine.
By the time we get home, I’d rather fly Salt Lake City to Manchester backwards in cattle class than do that again.
Still, all told: great trip. Paris is stunning, architecture is amazing — if you can see past the tourists (ourselves included).
Having Fiona along was great; certainly helped increase alcohol consumption; good for Jasper on the theme park rides; nice to have some adult company. Whilst we had a great time I’m afraid the crowds mean I’ll never be going back again. Another place raped by tourists.
Parisians were actually charming, service was good and friendly, which has forced me to retract decades of stereotypes.
Whilst Paris seemed full of members of the religion of pieces and permanent offence, I’m glad to say it wasn’t an overt presence. No black plastic bin liners perambulating around like Daleks without a proboscis. But you can’t help feeling that France will be the first to fall to that barbaric ideology that tries to pass itself off as a religion of peace.
What is wrong with World of IT.
If only someone could save me from the army of incompetent and senseless web developers who think sending a six-digit code for access to everything makes them geniuses. Honestly — these clueless 10-year-olds need their mums to tie their shoe laces and a nap before coding again.