French rugby.

How a nation can play so wonderfully in one match that spectators are left slack-jawed in awe, and then the next play like schoolboys. Or, as in our recent match with you in Paris, change in the same match!

I love France. Intellect is actually valued there rather than sneered at in the Anglo-saxon world.

I love Paris. There's a little cafe at the top of Montmartre which is my little slice of paradise.

Actually, where's my passport? All this talk - time for a weekend trip. (That's another thing to love - Paris is only a couple of hours away!)

Thanks Louis!