So what makes following your team so special? Well, I suppose it's the camaraderie, the banter and the friendship. It's almost like being a part of a large family, an extended community who are equally appreciative of good company as well as good rugby. You can generally be assured of a warm welcome before the game, and even if you're unlucky enough to lose you will always receive a friendly and generous reception in the bars and restaurants afterwards. This is particularly true of European matches. Few of those who travelled would have anything but fond memories of Limerick and San Sebastian. Yes, those memories can often be hazy but they're still pleasant.

As trips go, Paris is about as good as it gets. Around 800 supporters travelled there for our recent Heineken Cup game. Some of our number went for the cultural experience, others for the gastronomic delights of one of the world's most beautiful cities. Our own small party tried to do a little of both. Unfortunately, our cultural excursion proved to be abortive. We had planned to walk down the Seine and visit the Musée d'Orsay, and true to our word, after a very fine lunch, we did. For reasons that are still unclear, we managed to walk past it, not once, but twice without realising. You might blame this on being overly tired; we had been up for fifteen hours by then. Perhaps it was the wine. I suspect we'll never know, but in a city crammed full of beautiful, historic buildings, I guess it can be quite easy to overlook the obvious. Some supporters were more successful in their quests and managed to visit the Louvre, Sacre Coeur and La Défense. Others just ambled around the city in the lovely winter sunshine, taking in the sights and sounds.

On the day of the match we had a reasonably early start. After grabbing a coffee and a bite to eat, we set off to find the ground and a bar rendezvous, but not before posing for a picture for the Stocky Express in front of the Eiffel Tower. This time though, we double-checked the maps to make sure we'd actually find the place. In fact even we would've struggled to miss it, given its size and prominence. It also helped that we met the legendary Robbie Dickson outside, so we knew we were in roughly the right area when he pointed at it. The local bars were packed full of Sale and Stade Francais fans. Nearly everyone was happy and upbeat about their respective team's chances, although I suspect the French were rather more hopeful than I was at that particular moment. The atmosphere inside the ground was absolutely superb, better than anything I've encountered at Twickenham. The terraces were packed with free pink and blue flags. I'm not sure how it came across on the tv but it was spectacular to see up close - forty thousand spectators waving their flags about madly and dancing along to 'Come on Eileen'.