Here's a strange thing that happened to me today.

I was gaily (not THAT gaily, you understand) working away in the office, when an email arrives from someone at one of our sister agencies in the wonderful world of WPP. Turns out it was sent to me by mistake: the sender had meant to send it to one of their clients with the same surname as me, and our fabulous internal email system had picked my name instead.

Easily done, no harm done, and everything was fine. But the funny thing is that the sender of this completely random email was someone I used to go to school with and I hadn't talked to since.

Weird, eh?

I have lots of otherwise perfectly sane and rational British friends and relatives who have a terrible superiority complex when it comes to Americans. It's a British thing: the US used to be a colony, they have adapted the English language, they've voted for three consecutive Republican presidents who are fucking idiots - and some Brits like to think they're better than the vulgar Americans.

Me, I disagree. Unlike a lot of these friends and relatives, I'm lucky enough to have a lot of American friends, some of whom are very good friends. My expat social thing that I go to once a week is full of Americans, and they're without exception lovely, intelligent, funny and erudite people.

But here's the funny thing. With the US presidential election coming round, it's only natural that conversations tend to veer towards the political at the moment. And every single one of the Americans I've met is intending to vote Democrat. In a close-run election like this one is shaping up to be, you'd expect at least a couple of people who thought that Bush is doing a good job and deserves another four years. But no.

Admittedly mine isn't a terribly wide sample, but it is possibly indicative of the fact that educated Americans who get out into the world tend to think that things aren't as good as Bush paints them. And there must be thousands and thousands of these people who need to register for their overseas vote before the deadline on October 2nd. And according to my unscientific poll, quite a lot of these votes will be going for Kerry.

Which is why this story is so appalling - but after the nonsense in Florida last time, somehow doesn't come as a surprise. Apparently the Pentagon is blocking access from ISPs in France, the Netherlands and 22 other countries. That means people can't register to vote online, and THAT means there's a danger these people will be disenfranchised by their own government.

Bush is afraid of democracy. But there are other ways Americans can register to vote overseas. One is by dialling this international toll-free number: 08 00 91 73 04. Be quick, and make this nonsense stop.

Further to yesterday's post, I've found out that the Carousel in the Champ de Mars at the foot of la Tour Eiffel was built in 1913 - so my guess of 100 years wasn't TOO far out...

You can read more about it here.

We took Isobel to see the Eiffel Tower today (not to go up it, mind: at her age the excitement is all about seeing it from the outside. The view from the top is so abstract there wouldn't be any point).

Anyway – she was rather more impressed than I hoped, and it was almost an effort to get her into the playground to run off a bit of steam.

When she'd finished sliding and rocking and climbing, we sat down for a few minutes by an old-fashioned carousel. But when we got closer we realised it was actually much more unusual than it looked.

For a start, it was operated by hand. Which meant the poor guy had to start it by pushing it off, and then had to crank with a big lever. And just before their ride started, each child was given a white stick about the size of a drumstick.

At first, this mystified me. But once the ride got underway, everything was clear. On the perimeter of the carousel there was a small board, with metal rings poking out of the bottom. As the children on their horses rode past, they were supposed to skewer a ring with their stick. If they did, another ring dropped down to take its place, and so the game went on. The winner was the kid with the most rings at the end of the go. It was a sort of jousting for toddlers.

Well, they loved it – and it was a treat to watch. The delight on the kids' faces as they played this game was a joy to behold – and I defy anyone not to have fun watching. The girl operating the jousting machine was a true pro. As well as being able to unjam the (ancient) machine in the split-second she had to do it before being stabbed by an over-jealous child, she made sure even the tiniest toddlers ended up getting at least one ring by helping them out. The smiles of these really small kids when they finally did what they'd been trying and failing to do for the whole ride were a treat.

I don't know how long that thing has been there – but I wouldn't bet against it being a hundred years old. And it's been delighting kids all that time. With no lights, no noises, no licensing, nothing. Bit of a treat, really – and I can't wait to take Isobel there for a go.

If ever you wanted to understand the power and importance of branding, you might do worse than consider my relationship with Royal Crown cola. The first time I encountered the brand was in Prague in 1993. I was 21, and was doing my round Europe trip with my friend Gareth. For reasons that are far too long to go into here we were eschewing the normal trains in favour of Business Class on Lufthansa – and we were waiting for a flight to Berlin in the International Departure lounge at the airport (the niceties of travelling at the front were lost on us at this stage, so we didn't realise we could be sipping free G&Ts in the business lounge).

Prague was at this time at the heart of the new Europe after the fall of the Warsaw Pact regimes in the late 80s and early 90s, and was catching up fast. The place was full of sub-standard McDonalds restaurants, backpackers and people all too willing to separate you from your holiday money, your bags, your dignity or worse. Luckily we'd just about escaped all that – but again that's too long and painful a story to go into here.

The departure lounge was dotted with Royal Crown vending machines. RC cola hadn't (and indeed hasn't) got as far as the UK, so I'm afraid I assumed it was a knock-off Eastern European brand (well let's be honest: Royal Crown DOES sound kind of cheesy).

And that was the last I thought of it until years later, when I read either a book or a newspaper article or something else that happened to mention Royal Crown cola and how it knocks the likes of Pepsi and Coke into a cocked hat.

Being something of a soft drink fan, I rued the day I passed up the chance to taste one of what I now knew to be a great American cola. And since it STILL hasn't got as far as the UK (despite now being owned by Cadbury Schweppes of the UK), I'd never had the chance to taste it.

Until yesterday, when I was wondering round my local Monoprix and I spotted it: a four pack of Royal Crown Premium draft cola, sitting there winking at me. I had to have it, so I did.

And I'm delighted to say it was the second tastiest cola I've ever had. The first was Fentimans, but that's a real premium brand and not really a fair comparison. Much more complex in flavour than the bigger brands, it had a real kola nut flavour – almost like a root beer. So all in all a good buy.

So there's the thing. The product was the same, and it was a big brand and a tasty cola both in Prague in 1993 and Paris in 2004. the only thing that had changed was the ambience (Monoprix tends to stock good stuff) and my knowledge of the brand. And it turned the drink from something I wouldn't go near into something I had to have.

I went to another of those Expat things last night, this time to the Ritz Hotel, which is latterly famous for being the place rincess Diana had her last meal, but which is one of those big, famous hotels like Raffles, the Savoy, the Waldorf Astoria, the Peninsular and all the rest of it. It's not that often I get to be glamorous these days, so I was quite looking forward to going.

Just like Raffles, it's a bit of a disappointment, frankly. Although the location (on Place Vendôme in the 1st) is perfect and the building is lovely, they've managed to spoil the place by doing things like having display cases full of overpriced crap from local boutiques along the corridors, presumably for the benefit of American tourists. It ruins the place.

There was one interesting comment from someone I was talking to, who said (although it's difficult to believe) that she was a bit of a geek at school in the US. She was saying that she thinks everyone has an age they suit, and how tragic it is for the people who are popular at high school, because their golden age is over by the time they're 19. "I may have been a geek at high school," she said, "but it's me that's having cocktails at the Ritz in Paris now, isn't it?"

The lowpoint of the evening was having to cough up ?20 for a gin and tonic, which smashes my personal best by quite some distance.

Speaking of Princess Di, I think that August 30th should be a national holiday in the UK to commemorate her death and recognise the enormous public show of emotion when she was so tragically taken from us.

They could call it "Di and Dodi died day".

If you're looking for quality English training at home or work and you live in or near the Swedish capital, Stockholm (in Sweden), you should contact Dave Murphy at Word of Mouth. As well as providing top-quality professional and conversational English training, he's a top bloke. That's Word of Mouth for all your English needs in Sweden.

If that doesn't get him a Google listing, I don't know what will...

If I had any reguular readers, they'd know that I spend ather too much time talking about trains. But since I have no car, trains can sometimes loom large in my life.

Take yesterday, when I took the Eurostar back from the UK to Paris.

It's fab.

But just to redress the balance, I feel I should give a special mention to Avis, who provided me with a Vauxhall Vectra SRi instead of the Vauxhall Corsa I'd paid for. It was fast. Very fast.

If you're an expatriate Brit like me, there are some things about Britain you're guaranteed not to miss (like the London underground, British railways, the Conservative party and carpeted bathrooms) - and an equal number of things you'll miss like crazy (cheese, a nice cup of tea, the BBC, marmite and people smiling).

A friend of a friend has started a service that will make at least one aspect of being an expat Brit easier. She has a small sweet shop that specialises in old-fashioned traditional British sweets like pear drops, sherbet lemons, wine gums and lots more. Her shop is like a cornucopia of delights from the old days - and I spent a lot more money in there this weekend than I should have done.

Best of all, she offers an online shopping option and will deliver to any part of the world. So if you crave Wham bars in Wellington or Sherbet Dib Dabs in Delhi, this is the place for you.