Despite incorrectly setting my alarm, and having Mum knock at the door ready for my airport pick up, only to find me still in bed – I did make it to Paris on time and in one piece.

As well as beginning my day like a scene from Home Alone – “We slept in!”, apparently 15 hours of sitting proved too much for my pants (the single pair I packed), which decided to rip from arse cheek to arse cheek mid flight.

Why are you wearing a jumper around your waist in 42 degree Dubai heat? “No reason guys, nothing to see here”.

I waited at the wrong carousel in Paris for my luggage, and my transfer driver fell asleep in the waiting hall, forgetting to display my name on a board and greet me with balloons, as I’d imagined.

But on the drive to my hostel, I saw the Eiffel Tower, and knew I had just achieved something great. I felt proud and empowered. I managed to eat three croissants the next day, navigate my way around the metro system and not put any holes in any clothing items. Ive eaten the best steak I’ve ever had, a plate of cheese fit for a king, and seen some amazing buildings, gardens, streets and people.

As I sit to write this at a little cafe, opposite a park that looks like it’s a setting for a movie, I smile, and think… how many croissants can I manage tomorrow?