A few years ago my wife and I took our young children into Paris to view the tourist sites. We were staying outside Paris, at La Houssaye-en-Brie, and got the train in on what was a blisteringly hot day. By the time we emerged from the busy metro around lunchtime, agitated and sweating (No! Men perspire, women glow, only horses sweat!) we looked for somewhere to eat. I don’t recall where we were exactly, possibly Les Halles, but there was no shortage of cafés, yet to my shame we espied the golden arches of regret and thus my offsprings first repast in the City of Love was a Royale with fries.