Much as I enjoy Paris, I am also an eye-rolling cynic with regards to anything even remotely suggestive of romantic love. There is some strange new tradition in Europe that has couples writing their names on padlocks, then attaching them to chain link fences (preferably over a bridge) and throwing the key away. I cannot buy this as a gesture of love because, well, it’s absurd. What is it meant to signify?

In Paris, the favoured place to engage in this social fad is the Pont des Arts. I’m more impressed with the fact that the city regulary sends cleaning crews to the bridge to cut off all the offending locks, than I am with people declaring their togetherness (at least for the next 15 minutes) with a lock on the bridge.

On a slightly less cynical note, we had dinner at le Baratin, a lovely restaurant favoured by locals, in the non-touristy 20th arrondissement. A cat wandered in at one point during dinner, and somehow came straight to our table where he parked himself at my feet. I made the mistake of making eye contact with him, which apparently in feline terms means, “please come up and sit beside me”. Which he did.

The table at which we were seated was very long, complete with bench seats, so there was a party of three seated right beside us. The cat made himself a little bed between one of the other diners and me. When the staff noticed this, they moved swiftly to shoo the cat away, to great objection from all six of us seated at that table. Who were we to deny the cat his place at table? So, in deference to the customers, the cat was allowed to stay, to my extreme delight.

And, oh yes, the food was excellent.