I was on the trip to Paris in 1976 and remember it well. My main recollection is that I didn't stop laughing from the time we left Ealing until we returned some 4/5 days later. I think I was club secretary at the time and therefore in charge of logistics for the tour, including such formalities as ferry tickets, hotel arrangements etc.

We travelled by ferry from Portsmouth to Le Havre and then by coach to Paris where we found our hotel. However, it was mid-morning when we arrived and check in time was 3 p.m. In order to kill 3 or 4 hours we took over a small cafe opposite the hotel This proved not to be the best idea. Needless to say, copious alcohol was consumed and 1 or 2 of the party were guilty of some misbehaviour. I shouldn't tell tales but the name Tom Fisher springs to mind.

When check-in was possible the hotel manager who had been watching us across the street told us we were barred from entry because of what he had seen. Luckily, we had the excellent Bernard Woelfel with us and being French, he was dispatched from the cafe to negotiate our entry. After some time he returned to tell us that we were able to check in, all except Tom Fisher and one other [I am sorry to say I can't remember his name. He was scrum-half]. It was decided that those two would sleep on the coach and the rest of us moved across the road into the hotel.

I don't recall the names of the teams we played, but the last match was against a club about 20 miles south of Paris. They put on a superb after-match spread which included caviar. I went into the dressing room after the game to tell the lads what they could expect but Dennis Wilson (Wizzer) was not impressed. "Probably Norwegian" he complained, obviously a caviar connoisseur!

Unfortunately, due to an excess of red wine I left all the ferry tickets in the dressing room and as we were due to leave the same evening for London, we had to get a helpful guy from our host club to drive into Paris and meet us with the tickets.

One abiding memory is of Dave Phillips, who for some unexplained reason, had chosen to wear a suit throughout the tour. After 3 or 4 days Dave Patterson took offence at this and ripped the arms off the jacket. Undaunted DP continued to wear the suit, armless.  On our way out of the city to Le Havre we encountered the mother of all traffic jams. A typical Paris city interchange with about 5 avenues leading to a central hub. The traffic was completely stationary in all directions, no-one moving. After some time Dave Phillips leapt from his seat on the coach and into the centre of junction and began directing traffic, still wearing his armless suit. Making sure that our route was clear he directed vehicles from all directions until we could get out and on our way.

Finally we arrived back at Portsmouth where an over-assiduous customs officer made us take all our luggage off the coach for inspection. Right at the back one bag remained. "Whose is this?" Stewart Laird owned up and it was pulled off for searching. Stewart later admitted that that was the only time his bag had come off the coach for the whole tour. He had survived wearing the same clothes and without ablutions since leaving Horsenden Hill.

Happy memories!