Allez les Bleus!

We have a nice, pettite apartment - belongs to H’s neighbour. Fold up bed.
Up and out for a hot run across the Parc Butte Chaumont to the Canal.
Cold coffee, FranPrix.
Then, where to watch the final?
The fan-zone at the Eiffel Tower has big queues, apparently. In the end, we agreed to meet H in a bar at the Canal St Martin.
They (we) went crazy when France scored, silent when Croatia equalised, crazy when France got the second, third, fourth. Laughed at the keeper’s gaffe then erupted at the final whistle.
Beer showers.
Then people driving cars and mopeds waving flags and hooting.