Following an Easter break at home in the UK, I have been eagerly awaiting the excitement of a days which not only sees and England v France friendly at the Stade de France, but also a state visit from Président Sarko and his lovely wife, to see the Queen in London. Hilarious.
I am not into football, but like a good sport accompanied my friends to a bar by the Gare du Nord, where our compatriots were embarrassingly perpetuating the great British tradition of drinking too much and hitting people prior to a match. There was also a group of rather charming looking young men, neo-nazis by the looks of it, chanting some songs - no doubt about fair play and gracious losing and such - at the mouth of the métro station, which I gvae a wide berth and found a Vélib. As I type we are inevitably losing. Looking on the bright side however, there is plenty of footage of Beckham, looking concerned that we're losing, but thrilled to have his 100th cap before he retires.
So. The real story of the day has been Président Bling-Bling's visit to London. Already last week rumour was swirling - he's bring his mum along for the ride, no, yes.. and Carla's as well, outrageous, he's been told not to wear his Raybans and to lose the gold Rolex, not surprised, he looks like a tiny little gangster - but the final coup came this morning, with the news that Christie's was auctioning a nude photo of Mrs Bruni Sarkozy from 15 years ago. So what with that and remembering not to touch the Queen (at all, Chirac, not even a flirty brush of the hand) it was always going to be a stessful day, not helped by Sarko's look of boredom as he inspected the troops outside Buckingham Palace at record speed, leaving ageing Prince Philip wheezing and puffing to catch him up, nor but the fact that his wife almost joined him in doing so and had to be motioned back into line, nor the fact that both her and the Prime Minister's wife looked like they were about to drop off during Sarkozy's address to Parliament, during which he said all the right things about a close relationship, brotherhood and promised to send more French to the slaughter in Afghanistan, possibly inspired by Prince Harry.
The real game has been trying to get pics of Bruni's outfit (demure verging on nun-like). What does the body language say to you?