Paris Weekend - Day 1

Having left home early but with a curious lack of excitement, we did not hurry to Heathrow much to the chagrin of the many people with vehicles with funny shaped and noisy exhausts who overtook me. What would they be like if they actually owned their cars instead of leasing them? Our short term parking deal meant convenient and speedy parking not to mention a considerable sense of relief that I am not paying BAA's rather unattractive £73.70 a day.

Terminal 4 is the second transformation I have seen in three days. Whilst not as spectacular as that of St Pancras it certainly is impressive compared to the dull place it had become in little more than 20 years of previous life. Unfortunately the security staff, if outwardly and disingenuously pleasant, continue to wage psychological warfare on passengers and to misinterpret and misapply DfT regulations to their own advantage. Say one word out of place - as I did - and they gleefully impose additional checks on anyone who dares to challenge the essential futility of what they do. You probably wonder if I have any examples to illuminate my diatribe; I do. When challenged in detail - which they don't like one bit - they choose to hide behind 'government regulations' or, as one supervisor eventually did, admit the truth. They make you take off belts; this is not in the regulations but it makes things easier for them. There is no regard for how much passengers have to re-dress (although ironically they have no redress) or repack as long as life is easier for those of the strange mental makeup that allows them to be security personnel in the first place. They will tell you that removal of shoes is in the regulations too. The DfT recommendation is in fact for scanning of 1 in 3. There never was any scientific basis for most of the rules put in place as alarmist reactions to isolated incidents; now there is even less. Apparently nail scissors are now allowed (in hand baggage)whilst liquids in excess of 100ml and therefore meaning most bottles of mineral water, are not. My guess is I could do a lot more harm with the nail scissors than a bottle of Evian. I expect I should lay all this at the door of the DfT and the equivalent authorities worldwide. They are affiliated to governments which want us to live in fear so that they can justify their existences by putting in place all the measures which supposedly save us from certain doom.

The Skyteam lounge is very nicely appointed and our little corner of it had a pleasant view of 27L, the departure runway this morning. Boarding of our flight AFR1981 was prompt but departure eventually late. First the air jetty stuck and then we had an unfavourable position in the departure sequence but I was surprised to depart from an intersection. In many ways being on the A380 was unremarkable. There is little to say 'size' on board and it is not obvious that you are on the upper deck. Air France have chosen a rather bland interior and I was not convinced that the business class seat would be comfortable on a very long journey. It does not appear to compete with BA. Although the promotional fare was very good we expected a little more service. No attempt was made to serve a welcome drink even though the boarding process was protracted. On the other hand, it was a minor miracle to serve even a snack lunch on a 35 minute flight and the food was tasty. I treated myself to a glass (plastic tumbler) of champagne. TV presenter Andi Peters was in seat 66A. I absolutely loved the external cameras but disliked their rather erratic availability. Watching the landing at CDG was fun.

That was where the fun stopped. I was soon enough reminded why I don't use CDG and had planned to go Paris by train. It was hot in the terminal and the walks unbelievably long even with a shuttle train within 2E. The lower levels of the building are dim although more light reaches the floor above. The aircraft information system had given #40 as our baggage carousel but it went to another. Delivery was slow and we still had to reach the RER station. The airport makes few concessions to the visitor and fewer to the mobility impaired. It is an obstacle course to challenge even the fit. The ticket machines are not prominent but they are now much better at taking non-French credit cards, a major failing in the past. The RER train was sweltering and when we alighted at Denfert-Rocherau we had just enough energy to reach the hotel but were a little revived by the air outside.

Our fatigue and the presence nearby if not in the immediate locality of heavy showers, kept us in the hotel for dinner. The food in the amusingly named R'Yves - presumably a play on the hotel's own Rive Gauche name - was very good and beautifully presented. From our 16th floor room we could see north all the way across the city to Montmartre. As the day died Sacre Coeur disappeared in a succession of showers. I finished this post and turned back to Facebook and Flickr in order to try to overcome earlier failed uploads.