When the excursion was over, we met up again with Newt’s group by the lobby gift shop.

“Ah the elusive Kim Coburn. Mr Walton tells me you were lost?” Newt looked me over suspiciously, I felt like I was in a one-girl identity parade.

“Yeah sorry ‘bout that, must have taken a wrong turning at the Mona Lisa.”

“Even though you were given a map of the museum at the start of the tour?” You seriously couldn’t get anything past this old trout.

“Map? Oh right that map. I lost it.” That was definitely the lamest excuse I’d ever used.

“Then who’s are you holding right now?”

“Bianca’s.” She was on the verge of interrogating me further when Mr Walton intervened.

“Give it a rest Jill, she’s here now isn’t she? Lets just get back to the hotel and get ready for later.”

Hmm I definitely owed Mr Walton a favour, maybe I could start actually doing my homework on time?

On the bus, everyone was buzzing with excitement about tonight’s trip, the Eiffel tower. It was going to be amazing to see it all lit-up with the light show. I know it was passé to admit it as most of Paris thought it was an eyesore, but I genuinely couldn’t wait. Back at the hotel, we had dinner than an hour of free time before the bus left. I changed into fresh clothes for the evening, making sure to wear something warm yet still stylish, it may be April but it would still be Baltic at the top of the Tour Eiffel. I couldn’t wait to see Marie clambering around in a mini-skirt and stilleto boots. After a dinner of Steak Tartare and some weirdly tasty apple thing, which resembled a hibernating hedgehog, me and Bianca set off to explore the surrounding area.

It was still quite sunny, and there was an open-air pop concert on a few streets away. We stayed for a while, enjoying the cheese factor of old fat men wearing white trousers. Disturbing but seriously hilarious. Once I had got enough pictures of the offending trousers on my digital camera, we bought some ice creams and Bianca bought some French gossip magazines from a news stand.

“I can’t live without the latest celebrity tittle-tattle.” She grinned flicking idly through the Paris Match.

“Even though you don’t know any French celebrities?” I asked, finishing off my cone.

“Gossip is gossip.” She shrugged, shoving them in her bag. “C’mon we’ll miss the bus.”

On arriving at the tower, everyone was craning their heads around trying to get the best view.

The coach was parked down by the Seine and we all trailed behind the teachers, walking past a colourful riverside funfair towards the tower. The queue for the lifts was ridiculously long, so I opted we walk up the first two flights. Bianca wasn’t convinced.

“Just imagine the bracing wind in our hair and the great achievement of knowing you’ve walked up the Eiffel tower.”

“Or let’s imagine how bushy our hair will get in the ’bracing wind’ and the fact we wont be able to use our legs tomorrow.” Grabbing her arm I dragged her towards the ticket stand.

Twenty minutes later I wished I’d listened to her and not got so swept up in my idealistic visions of climbing the stairs.

“I can’t go on, tell my family I love them.” I panted gripping onto the handrail desperately. Bianca who was absolutely fine, marched right past me.

“Shift yourself you big drama queen. This was you idea in the first place.” I whimpered, trudging on after her. When we finally reached the first level, I fell onto a nearby bench.

“If I never see another set of stairs again in my life, it will be way to soon.”

“Guess what. We’ve got another level to go.” Bianca giggled wickedly. I groaned, closing my eyes.

“Can’t you take the lift like nomal people?” A deep, English voice murmured in my ear.