Anyway, this made the present a real shock and in the week before setting off I found it very hard to get round the fact that she didn't hate it at all and was, if anything, more excited about the trip than I was (and I was really looking forward to it so that made her fairly excited).
So, on Tuesday morning we all (kids as well) set off to Manchester airport and caught an Air France flight to the "city of love". The flight was good (by good I mean I didn't scream or stop breathing once). The landing was a little hairy, but only by my standards - nobody else even realised it had landed!
It was a little disappointing to get there and realise we had left behind a glorious sunny day and arrived in a downpour. The day got no better as most of the Metro was on strike for the day and it took 3 hours to get to the hotel. It appears to be something the French do regularly and this time they were striking to complain about the fact there hadn't been a strike for over a week. Actually it was something to do with the economy, and when the price of a cup of tea was nearer £7 I think I see what they mean :)
It was nice enough though and the staff were amazingly helpful and friendly. And boy did they put up with a lot - there was a Japanese bloke giving them hell every time I walked past the desk and a multitude of Americans stepped in whenever he stopped to draw breath. Little things let the hotel down though, like the fact the computers were made by Apple and crashed a lot (actually that bit was amusing, as was the French keyboard) and that the swimming pool was shut for refurbishment. The travel agency could and should have told us about that before taking all my wife's money and upsetting the children. All this made me live up to my "Victor Meldrew" persona so the rest of the family made fun of me a lot, so I calmed myself down with a beer, purposely not looking at how much said beer was costing, or the fact it was Heineken.
That evenings meal was taken at the hotel and the food was nice, but nowhere near nice enough to cost £85 for the four of us - I thought I was going to need oxygen to get over paying that one and I paid by credit card because I couldn't bring myself to pay in cash.
The next day we walked to the Eiffel tower and got the lift to the second floor, which has amazing views (see the pictures). We then queued for about an hour to get the lift to the very top, which wasn't nearly as amazing as I thought it should be but well worth it all the same. My legs did have a strange jelly like feel to them and my peripheral vision was a bit blurry if I turned too quick so I'm guessing there was a touch of vertigo kicking in :) We used the steps down from the second floor and that in itself was amazing because you had time to appreciate the views and what an intricate (and extremely sturdy) structure it is.
As it was we managed to get out by accident and we crawled back to the hotel for a meal and in time to see Manchester United get bounced out of the final, something that truly made Christopher's day.
The flight back was again very easy and I even managed to keep my eyes open for the landing. Things are truly looking up in the flying department I think (I can say that now I'm back on land with little prospect of flying again for ages).
Pictures of the trip can be seen at http://www.flickr.com/photos/simonsherlock/sets/72157618876634717/ and more will be added when I get round to uploading some of the children's pictures.
The main thing that did strike me was just how like London it all was - except for the cigarettes everywhere (amazing how quick we got used to not being enveloped in smoke over here while they continue to smoke like tyre fires over there). I also wondered briefly whether it would be cheaper for a Parisian to fly over here and eat out every night than eat out over there but it was quickly pointed out that they would probably rather die than eat British food, which made me chuckle a little.