BIENVENUE a Paris.

Where gastronomy is always on the menu. While your diarist is delighted that celebrated bon viveuse Amelie Mauresmo has been advising Andy Murray on all the best restaurants in the French capital, he wonders what she would have made of his late night dining option on Friday. It was a place called Le Kentucky Fried Chicken.

Some are more convincingly Francophile than others. That product of the Channel Islands, Heather Watson, was hailed as being a quarter French yesterday, although this seemed to have less to do with her parentage - her dad comes from Manchester and her mum from Papua New Guinea - and more to do with the fact many of the road signs and place names in Guernsey sound a bit French. She too has apparently been sampling the good life. "Well I actually went to one the day before yesterday," she said. "It was called Cafe something ... it was really good."

They do things their own way here. The metro journey into the venue each day is livened up by some live music, anything from French accordion folk to some a capella warbling in Arabic, all done to encourage you to throw a cent or two into a cup. Everything was going so well until the diarist asked if he could have a receipt.

Food and travel. Our two themes coalesced into a rather stomach-churning story which Serena Williams chose to share with the world on Friday. It all related to a 13-hour flight from Chicago to Moscow during which Serena had a tummy bug and spent the duration in the bathroom. Let's just say the turbulence wasn't confined to the atmospheric conditions but at least she learned a valuable lesson. "I learned you probably shouldn't eat chilli in Moscow," she recalled grimly.

Kei Nishikori took on Paul-Henri Mathieu in the first round yesterday. It was their first competitive meeting since 2012 so was there anything the Japanese player could take from that match? "Ah. Yeah, that was too long time ago, so I don't remember much," Nishikori said. "But actually we just had a practice yesterday, and, you know, I know how he plays."

One member of the press pack has a habit of collecting towels from all the Grand Slams. He is dismayed to find out that a large Roland Garros one now retails at 69 Euro. At least he will be able to use it to dry his tears when he spends his life savings on it.