It’s just past mid day on a Saturday and I find myself sat on a train emerging from a dark tunnel onto the shores of France, giddy with childlike excitement about what the next 24 hours is going to hold. I’ve already filled up on breakfast at Dishoom in Kings Cross (bacon & egg naan and more bottomless chai than any human should probably drink) and resigned myself to activating the roaming ‘deal’ (in the loosest sense) EE have offered me, which’ll allow me to use data and texts while abroad, in the knowledge that after so many reports of fan violence coming from the south of the country my family will want me to be in constant touch. We’re sat planning how we want to spend our fleeting visit to Paris, which a core focus on football. With the huge increase in security, partly due to the devastating bombings at the Stade De France last year, and now the disgusting scenes of hooliganism, we’re having to build in ‘getting through all that extra security’ time into all of our plans. Before all that though, we’ve got to check in at our AirBnB, actually see a bit of Paris and eat five million pastries.