How to avoid Parisians whilst getting drunk.

I'm at work and am already counting the minutes until I escape not only the office but the country courtesy of the Eurostar direct to Paris!

The day drags on. The extended coffee breaks and long lunch aren't helping. And people keep calling the helpline. I mean, don't they know I'm already in 'Paris mode' and don't give a 'merde' about their problems? *sigh* such is the life of a government worker.

But never mind, I'm soon enough on the 1848 Eurostar (by First Class, of course) direct to Paris. I sit down, remind the waitress (oh, sorry train attendant) those in 'Standard Class' shouldn't a: be breathing my first class air, and b: even remotely looking in my direction.

I'm served some chamapange in a glass far too small for my liking (think "My First Champagne" a la "My First Sony"), switch on my mp3's and switch off my brain for a few hours. Two bread rolls, two bottles of wine, one moussaka and three hours later I'm in Gare Du Nord. Formidable!

I'm meeting my friend Andrew at the Saint Germain Des Pres Metro, so I text him three stations before (god help us if/when mobiles work on the London underground!) and he's there shortly after I arrive.

We take a short walk to his place, drop off my Loius Vuitton baggage and immerse ourselves into Parisian culture by heading straight to a Canadian themed bar, namely The Moose. (The website is 'Flash' overkill, so be warned). We had a few pints there, then continued our Parisian experience at the Coolin, an Irish bar quite literally across the road from Andrew's place. How extremely convenience. I met Siobhan, a Dublin girl who works there and she presented us with two wigs and giant Guiness shaped hats for their St. Patrick's Night in three days time.

Two more drinks and its time to go home - it was almost 2am after all.

Other than the disinterested man who sold me my 'carnet' on the Metro, I don't think I spoke to a single native Parisian the entire night.

So, holiday off to a good start then!