After crawling into bed in the early hours of the morning we didn't crawl back out of our boudoir pit until 10:30am. Fortunately for us they were still serving breakfast.

It was served in the green room, the conservatory at the back. A basket of bread and pastries was brought to our table, as well as fresh fruit salad, yogurt, cereal and eggs "how you like it".

It wasn't a "help yourself" or "eat as much as you can" buffet. It was a civilised table service with a menu. Everything was included in our room rate except for the smoke salmon. That was an extra €14.

Feeling extravagant Julie ordered the salmon and I balanced it out by asking for a plain omelette.

It was all very nice but we both agreed not as nice as the Ibis Styles yesterday!

Before leaving we spent sometime in the red room, the courtesan's meeting room, where we studied closely a number of paintings. The most impressive was called "Naakt in een Salon" by Belgian artist Phillipe Swyncop, 1904.

Perhaps he frequented this establishment at the turn of the century because the seductive image of a half-dressed young woman could easily have been a courtesan in the employment of Madame Souqet.

She looked strangely familiar, as if I had seen her before on the canvas of a more famous painter like Degas. I had never heard of Swyncop before and with him not being an A-list artist it was probably the original, which was exciting.

We didn't really have a plan for today. Julie fancied a cruise down the Seine but the web page booking form kept failing. So we decided to get the metro, to a spot known as Port du Suffren at the base of the Eiffel Tower, to see if we could catch one from there.

We bought a Paris metro day pass at €12 each, even though half the day had already past!  To get out money's worth we had to use it seven times today. Our first journey  was from Blanche to Charles de Gaulle/Etoille metro station.

The exit brought us out directly in front of the huge arch. Inspired by the Arch of Titus in Rome, Napoleon commissioned his own truimphant arch to honour those who fought and died for France. It depicted scenes from victorious battles of the late 18th and early 19th century. It also has the tomb of the unknown soldier, installed after the First World War.

It was possible to cross the giant crazy roundabout where 12 roads converged using an underpass but we chose not to do so. Instead we did what everyone else did. We took a quick selfie then walked down Champs Elysee.

The tree lined boulevard Avenue des Champs Elysees stretched over a mile long and straight as an arrow all the way down to Place de la Concorde. We weren't planning on walking all the way down, just far enough down to get a photo of the arc de triomphe (from a distance) and then find the nearest metro station for the next leg of our journey.

A slight detour was to enter the Paris St. Germain store welcomed by a smiling Kylian Mbappe on the big screen. When we travel I always try and find a football jersey. I usually try to find a cheap knock-off in the markets but sometimes the destination deserves an authentic verified shirt.

I left with their classic dark blue home shirt, in a large and €100 less in my pocket.

About halfway down the Champs Elysees, after we had spent a brief moment getting lost in the cosmetics department of the Galeries Lafayette's other store (not the famous one), we crossed the road to reach the metro station of Franklin D. Roosevelt, named after the American President who oversaw the liberation of Paris from the Nazis in 1944.

From there we caught the M9 metro line to the Trocadero.

Just around the corner we stood on the esplanade between the two wings of this enormous art deco palace, the Palais de Chaillot, where eight gilded statues, four on each side, created one of the classic view of the Eiffel tower.

The walk down through the Jardin du Trocadero has undoubtedly the best view of the Eiffel Tower in the whole of Paris, but not today. Unfortunately the gardens were closed, hidden behind a construction site wall. I'm guessing it was another project in preparation for the Olympic games in 2024.

We briefly caught a glimpse through a hole cut into the board. Although it was a clear view, being obscured not only by the wire grill of the window but also several "love" padlocks of couples declaring their locked-in love. (My eyes are rolling as I write this. This trend has become the scourge of most bridges in European cities)

We marched our way down the side of the Trocadero gardens, eventually reaching the Seine and an opportunity to admire the Eiffel Tower up close, yet far enough away to take it all in.

It was a spectacular sight. Completed in 1889, it was the most incredible expression of the Belle Epoque. It bears the name of Gustav Eiffel, and justifiably so because without him it would never have been built, however, the original design came from two engineers under his guidance. The wrought-iron lattice tower was a work of collaborative genius.

At the time it was the world's tallest structure. Many critics didn't even believe it was technically possible to build a 300m tower, but 133 years later it still stands.

It looked like it was half way through being painted. It seemed to have two different colours. It turned out they were in the process of painting it gold for the Olympics in 2024.

Once we had done with standing in awe of  La dame de fer (the Iron Lady) as she is affectionally known, we crossed the river over Pont d'Iéna and turned right, down to the embankment, a place called Port de Suffren, from where the boat trips departed.

We couldn't have timed it any better. The next available bateaux mouche set off at 1:30pm. Within minutes of stepping onboard we began to sail upstream.

After grabbing the last two available chairs on the top deck, I popped back below deck to claim our free glass of champagne. By the time I returned to me seat we were fast  approaching our first landmark, the ornate Pont Alexandre III.

I was glad I didn't miss this stunning bridge.  

When we sailed beneath it we could see a pair of nymphs, apparently representing the rivers Seine of Paris and the Neva of St. Petersburg. Between them was a coat of arms, a golden double headed eagle, a symbol of imperial Russia.

Of course, it almost goes without saying, the bridge was built during the Belle Epoque golden age at the end of the 19th century. It was named after the Russian Tsar who oversaw a Franco-Russian alliance and who died just before the construction began.

We continued to sail down the Seine, passing the Grand Palais with its spectacular glass roof, built specifically for the 1900 exposition. Then came the Place de la Concorde with its glistening golden tipped obelisk from Luxor before passing on the right the Musee d'Orsay, a former railway station that looked like a palace. It was yet another architectural work of art built during the Belle Epoque.

The boat kept a steady pace as we continued upstream. We had a guide, who spoke in French and English to inform us at what we were looking. The thing with being on a boat was we didn't have long before we had drifted past and the moment had gone, moved on to the next landmark.

Coming up was the Pavillion de Flore, part of the Louvre Palace, which of course is home to the most famous museum in the world. A little further along and we could see the tip of the glass pyramid.

A few minutes later we reached Île de la Cité, the island in the Seine, sailing under Pont Neuf, the oldest bridge in Paris. This was the heart of the city, where it all began.

We past the scaffold shrouded Notre Dame Cathedral. The construction site looked even sadder in the daylight.

To the right, where we had dinner last night, was an area known as the left bank (because when you travel downstream it's on the left). It was also known as the Sorbonne, a district of Paris filled with educational institutions since the 12th century and synonymous with the phrase "left bank".

Our guide explained that our use of being on the left or right of politics originated from the post-revolution French Assembly, where the liberal politicians sat together on the left and the conservative sat on the right, which he suggests was influenced by the Sorbonne, a place of learning and liberal thinking, being on the left bank.

The bridges came thick and fast now and after sailing under Pont de la Tournelle the guide asked us all to turn around and look behind us. There, standing on top of a tall stack, was the statue of Saint Geneviève, the patron saint of Paris. Despite welcoming people into the city since 1928, and created by Paul Landowski, a French (of Polish descent) sculptor who's best known for the statue of Christ the Redeemer in Rio de Janeiro, I had not seen nor heard of it before.

After one more bridge, the bateaux-mouche slowly manouvred around the tip of the Île de la Cité. It wasn't straightforward for such a long boat but the pilot made it look easy.

We were now heading downstream where we passed a striking gothic palace known as the Conciergerie, part of the former palace Palais de la Cité. It was once a courthouse and prison. During the French revolution Marie Antoinette was famously imprisoned here before being sent to the guillotine.

I wondered why I hadn't noticed it on the way earlier, but we hadn't been along this stretch of the river. It was on the North side of Île de la Cité.  

The return leg was less interesting because we had seen it all before and the guide had nothing more to say. Our attention quickly drifted away to our phones as we tried to find somewhere for lunch.

By the time the Eiffel Tower came back into view we had created a shortlist of possible eateries.

We sailed beneath Pont Alexandre III with its stunning golden statues, known as fames from Greek mythology, for the goddess of renown. So that's where the word "fame", as in being famous, comes from.

We continued past the base of the Eiffel Tower to give the boat enough space to turn around and dock safely back at Port de Suffren. "Well, that was a pleasant way to spend an hour." said Julie. The weather had again been kind to us today.

We made our way back up towards the base of the Eiffel Tower. It was only then did we notice another carousel. It didn't appear as authentic as the one at the foot of the Sacre Coeur. I may be wrong but it had the feel of a replica. 

 The last time we were here we could roam freely around the base and directly beneath it but now a fence kept out the riff raff. Only paying customers could get close. I suppose it also meant only those who have gone through stringent security checks would be allowed anywhere near.

The park beyond the Eiffel Tower was also fenced off. It appeared to have been a race on today. It turned out to have been the 116th Paris-Tours road cycling classic. It was all over, every one had gone home, but they had left their mess behind, like discarded race numbers or energy drinks.

We moved on.

A quick check on Google maps for the nearest restaurant on our short list sent us searching for a pedestrianised cobbled street called Rue Cler, a lively market street harking back to bygone days filled with France' finest artisan producers. The street was bursting with fromageries, chocolateries, boulangeries and cafes.

In the middle of it all was the restaurant Le Petit Cler. It came highly recommended. 

We sat outside, on the pavement, ordered a glass of Cotes de Gascogne wine and a bottle of Grimbergen beer whilst we browsed the menu.

The lack of traffic because of its position on a pedestrianised street made for a peaceful location. All we heard were the chatter of the other diners and the clinking of glasses. 

Julie had her perfect meal with chicken breast, skin on, served with a buttery baked potato and the gravy arrived on the side, in a jug, as requested. It was a ten out of ten from her.

I opted for a goat cheese salad which sounded a bit boring. It was anything but. It was incredibly delicious. The sort of meal you didn't want to end.

It really was a thoroughly excellent lunch.

It was 4pm when we left Le Petit Cler and made our way back towards our hotel. We walked to the nearest metro station which was La Tour-Marbourg from which we caught the number 8 line to Concorde. Here we changed lines for the number 12 whose platform was decorated with tiles of letters, like a scrabble board.

The train arrived full. We squeezed on board but we couldn't get near to a pole to hold onto. We weren't far from one but it had been commandeered by this bloke who was literally wrapped around it.

It was such an unpleasant ride we decided to get off early at Trinite d'Estienne d'Orves. It wasn't the end of the world, the route back to our hotel was straightforward enough. We only needed to follow Rue Blanche all the way up the hill.

Along the way we passed the Theatre de Paris where the Broadway musical The Producers was staged. I was surprised that Paris even had a musical theatre scene.

Other than the theatre and an interesting old Fire Station the street Rue Blanche was mostly nondescript which could have been anywhere in Europe.

Fifteen minutes later we reached Place Blanche, tired and thirsty. The tables outside Cafe Rouge Bis invited us to sit down and have a drink. We obliged.

I tried another interesting beer. This was called Panaché and had a sweet, slightly floral taste. We also shared a carafe of the house white and watched people arrive, take photos of the Moulin Rouge, then move on.

We finally reached the welcoming doors of Maison Souquet where we went straight to bed for an afternoon snooze.

Before slipping into a deep sleep, we decided to cancel a dinner reservation at 6:30pm at a restaurant in Montmartre. There was no chance of us making it in any fit state.

Instead we slept for two hours before venturing out in search of an Irish Bar to watch some football. Along Boulevard de Clichy we had three to choose from.

The furthest was called The Harp but they weren't showing the game! I was shocked and we left, without even buying a Guiness. The next was called Corcoran's and was showing the post-match interviews of the Liverpool v Arsenal game on the screens.

We settled down with a drink and waited patiently.

The kick-off was 8pm in the UK, which came and went but they were still showing the post-match analysis of the other game. Eventually someone must have complained because they changed the channel onto the Everton v Manchester United game. Within a few seconds Everton scored!  "Oh, FFS !!"  I wasn't best pleased.

Thankfully on 15 minutes Antony scored to draw level.

After about half an hour Julie was struggling to stay awake, so we decided to head back to our hotel.

Back in Margot's room Julie fell asleep almost immediately as I followed the game on FotMob, an app that provided live updates, in a text format.

It was half time, and 2-1 to United. Ronaldo scored his 700th career goal! What an incredible achievement. I was gutted to have missed it.

I then spent the next hour following the game on the app. Thankfully there were no more goals and another unconvincing win for United.

It don't know if I was tired or just a wave of relief but it didn't take me long after the final whistle to join Julie into a very deep sleep.