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We stayed over in Mulhouse (basically a motorway town) last night where local French kids befriended us (turned out it was ruse designed merely to advance their aims of seizing the pool table). On our way back north through the French countryside, we stopped off at Reims, where the magnificent Cathedral of Notre-Dame de Reims stands in all it’s Gothic glory.
We jumped off the Dover-Calais ferry at the end of a long day which saw us start in industrial Sheffield. The glare of the evening sun then accompanied us as we drove south along wide open motorways to our hotel in Arras. By the time I actually set foot on French soil, it was evening and there was only just enough time left to walk the streets looking for food.
Craig finally got on the Eurostar – and since it was a family trip, I did too. Paris was our destination, and unlike our previous winter trip here, it was now warm and perfect weather for exploring the French capital. Better still, we were around on Bastille Day, and hence witnessed a spectacular celebratory fireworks display over the Eiffel Tower.
We had originally planned to travel on the Eurostar to Paris – but weeks before we were due to leave, a fire broke out in the Channel Tunnel and they had to put us on a brand new British Airways 777 instead. I wasn’t too adamant, but my Brother, the train enthusiast, unsurprisingly was. Once there, Paris met many expectations.
