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.

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.

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.

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.