Best of Paris in London

It's been a few years since I last spent a full summer in the capital and back then I was swimming in the royal fishbowl, with its endless round of carefully choreographed events. Subsequent summers were spent doing business in New York, and escaping from London to Paris when time permitted.

But this tale of three cities has moved on and so this year I've stayed put - and it's been a reminder of just how brilliant London is. OK, we need a new Mayor (it's hardly Ken's fault that no one can find an alternative candidate), but there are so many things here to be happy about.

Yet, while I'm a near zero-tolerance zone when it comes to moans about London, Paris is still my second favourite city. It's much less alive than London, of course, with an element of decay - both social and physical - in the air.

We rented a small flat there for two years when Guy was working for Michael Howard. This wasn't Guy's subtle way of asserting his anti-Eurosceptic position with colleagues, but simply us deciding we needed a bolt hole.

After my six years with the Prince of Wales we knew how essential it was to have a change of scenery at weekends for coping with a 24/7 job. Yes, the phone still never stopped ringing, and every meal was interrupted (I can remember vividly the café we were in when Boris Johnson was sacked; I was eating tarte aux pommes), but somehow it was easier to cope with pressure in a different place.

We gave up Paris soon after the 2005 election, its purpose having passed and the temptations of a house in Italy taking over. But we still go back often, trying new restaurants and visiting our old favourites.

One is a fish restaurant on the rue George V - the Marius et Janette, where we were taken by eminent media ethics guru Professor Claude-Jean Bertrand and his divine wife Michele. The restaurant manages to be excellent and a touch grand - but without being stuffy, or just reserved for people on expense accounts.

Finding a similar venue in London has always been difficult, but I was led this week to the Poissonnerie de l'Avenue to see if it met the challenge. Sitting down with an Israeli friend (whose task it was to test my views on what's happening in Lebanon at the moment), I felt immediately that I was back in Paris.

The Poissonnerie is a grand old place, part of the local Chelsea fabric and a favourite of the local ladies. The late Duke of Devonshire's sister, the divine Lady Elizabeth Cavendish, had taken me there once before, many years ago.

I recall being vaguely intimidated by it - I was very new to London at the time - but having a wonderful time, not least of all because Elizabeth introduced me to Princess Alexandra, my favourite Royal, who was sitting in the corner with some friends.