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.

Today sees us taking a long walking tour of Paris, since we are literally 5 mins from the Triumphant Arch, it was time to climb the 284 steps to the top for impressive views of Paris, before lunch at the Troccadero then afternoon tea at the tower, topped off with snacks at the Christmas fayre.

Chilly 1 degrees temp, but dry at least.

So lunch had, feet rested, off we trot.

Do as the Roman’s do, when in Paris, get skinted.

After sitting down for breakfast and finding that coffee was €8, tea a paltry €10 we decided to do what the name suggested and thought Fooket, McDs here we come.

Yes at least Dick Turpin had the courtesy to wear a mask!

Yup, after a meal at a Bistro where the walls were adorned with hippos (they even had a caricature of Mnt Rushmore with hippos), Mrs Fogg suggested we have a nite cap in the hotel bar and this was the bill for 2 double baileys. We did enquire where the rest of the bottle was, which was met by quizzical looks by the waiter.

Appreciate we are looking to take a mortgage out, but not for a bloody drink!

Won’t be doing that again.

8 years of being married to Mrs Fogg, last year she surprised me with a trip to Brussels, so the challenge was accepted and about 3 months ago I booked a romantic break to Paris, stopping in the Hotel California (how cool).

It has been hell trying to keep this a secret for 3 months, but wonderful to see Mrs Fogg smile so much at going to Paris. Christmas markets, nice sights and wonderful company is the order.

Watch for the updates.