Those who have not visited Nanterre might imagine it to be a place where carefully nurtured hens wander at their leisure through artisanal flour windmills to make the very best of brioche in the world. Nanterre is distinctly not like that. It’s on the Seine, yes, but one could not describe its university buildings as dreaming spires. In real life, it’s a grubby and run-down dormitory suburb on the outskirts of Paris before you get out (or in) to the nicer parts where richer people live.

In the same vein, I once insisted that we visited Manosque during a Provencale holiday to hunt down the home of L’Occitane, expecting a picturesque stone mas among fields of fragrant lavender. Manosque is not like that. If there’s even a brass plaque for the company’s registered office, we didn’t find it on any wall there. The return journey included a little detour to the ochre escarpments of Rousillion, though, so the day wasn’t entirely wasted.

People talk about Leith as a place one must go when visiting Edinburgh. It has, apparently, two Michelin-starred restaurants and there’s a song about it. We had to go. There’s not much there, in truth. The renovated old docks are quite picturesque and the building in progress is reminscent of Sihanoukville but that was it. The Royal Yacht Britannia is hidden away behind the Ocean Terminal shopping mall – again so very unlike the swanky Ocean Terminal malls in Hong Kong – and the entrance fee was £17, which we were too uninterested to fork out. We walked there, had a quick stroll around after a superb Turkish/Kurdish lunch with Eliza, saw some cygnets and some people enjoying a beer in the sunshine and came home on the bus. And that was Leith. I’m sure it will be lovely when it’s finished.

We walked there via Calton Hill, which was well worth a stop to admire the views over Edinburgh and the Firth of Forth. One of these pictures shows all three Forth Bridges. Arthur’s Seat is shown off in all its glory in another.