Almost made it to the end of the week and a few steps closer to Christmas. Last night we went for a meal with the folks and the waiter obviously thought that Mrs Folky was too hot, so tipped the contents of her wine over her. So after leaving the restaurant all you could smell was the wino as she walked to the car, well she can always suck it out of her clothes if she needs a drink.

And today the local sandwich company delivered a turkey meal in a polystyrene pot to the office, yum yum.

Chrimas supermarket shop done (1hr in and out before anyone else arrived), nervous turkey ordered and meat ready to collect on 23 Dec.

So 5 days left to work, almost there and then its time to stuff ourselves (and the turkey) silly.

And as a pre Chrimbo treat we are off to see the Hobbit on 23 as well.

Simply one of the best feel good Christmas movies of all time was playing at our art house cinema, so we had to go see it. Frank Capra’s classic movie from 66 years ago, it’s a wonderful life is still timeless and wonderful.

A glass of wine and mince pies were also included in the hefty £4 charge.

A wonderful movie and a wonderful evening.

Ah, a wonderfully tiring weekend in Paris where Mrs Foggy has walked my feet off. On the last day we have walked what can only be described as the grottiest area in the world with literally hundreds of men just stood watching you walk down dark alleys.

Still we managed to get a glass of cheap plonk to celebrate before catching the train and then plane back home.

Here’s to Christmas and year 9.

More like Sacre Bleur, 100 steps to the church and then 300 to the dome, but with views of all Paris. Cold and breathtaking.

Time for more vin Chaud.

After a 5k wall we made it to Notre Dame Cathederal with no sign of a bloke with a hump (even though there looked to be some likely candidates).

The Cathederal is very ornate and beautiful inside, however despite the signs informing you of no hats, no drink and no pictures that’s exactly what you saw (this is France where no means unless you want to).

I’m not a churchy type of person, but I always thought confessions were done in wooden boxes so you couldn’t see the priesty bloke and he couldn’t see you?Not here, the confessional is a big glass room where not only can you see each other, but the public can also see you. Not many juicy confessions going on there then.

Today is food, walking to Montmartre and more food.

I dunno, we travel all this way to find the Blackpool Tower and there’s no tacky fun rides with it. The queue to buy tickets alone was horrendous and then once purchased you need to queue to use your ticket, so we decided to leave it, unless of course a young Kal-El happens to be flying by (superman).

The Tower is an amazing feat of engineering, but lets not forget that the Americans have their own version in Las Vegas.

Where next then, more walking and more exploring then the plane back to blighty.

After our 10k hike from the hotel to the Eiffel Tower, then Notre Dame and back up to the Champs Élysées, we found ourselves drawn to a makeshift restaurant serving casserole dishes full of steaming mussels. With 4 waitresses and over 100 people wanting service we were the lucky ones. Fully energised and hammered we sought out Vin Chaud (mulled wine) and craps (yes I know how it should be spelt but these ones were crap).

A truly wonderful 8th anniversary spent with Mrs Fogg.