New Year in Paris evokes many images. A stroll by the Seine, lunch on the Champs Elysees, a romantic meal in a small, cosy bistro. Not for me. I was pepper sprayed by the friendly Gendarme.

No I wasn't wearing a union jack shirt, chanting football songs and charging a water cannon at the time. Instead I was merely walking back from Monmarte with my girlfriend.

We may not have been the intended target for the officer's discharge - that seemed to be a small group of voiciferous youths - but we were caught flush and square.

Now, as my vision slowly returns and the sneezing is reduced to one an hour, thoughts return to Cheltenham, where officially from January 2nd all roads lead.

Like a student on the eve of his or her A levels I am now having to frantically revise the recent action. I saw Kauto Star conquer in the King George and also witnessed the demise of my Champion Hurdle fancy Straw Bear in the Christmas Hurdle.

But what did I miss while over with my Gallic friends? My Way De Solzen seems to have impressed all and sundry at Cheltenham but is set to swerve a rematch with the remarkable Fair Along in the Arkle.

But it was over in Ireland that the major trials took place.

First The Listener ran Beef Or Salmon and more significantly War Of Attrition off his legs in the Lexus Chase. He is clearly an exciting prospect but one who is best with the mud flying.

It seems as though Cheltenham officials will move heaven and earth to avoid quick ground at the Festival which will suit The Listener but not the reigning champion.

When War Of Attrition ran away with the race 12 months ago it seemed as though a genuine star was born. Now he has been beaten on his last three starts.

There are reasons for it - mainly the very soft ground. But unless we have a dry spring and conditions on the final day of the Festival are as they were in 2005, the champ has a glass chin.

That is not an accusation that can be levelled at Brave Inca who if he was human would be the sort of person for whom you buy a drink - whether you like it or not.

He was back to his old self when eyeballing the young pretender to his throne, Iktitaf, before easing clear again in the Festival Hurdle at Leopardstown.

He is a street fighter with a touch of class, not the sort to run home crying after a squirt of something spicy from a French law official. Wish he'd been with me in Paris