Paris for The Three Generations: a Friday-to-Monday weekend

An hour on the river, seated, with the monuments doing the work; the open upper deck for the children, the glass deck for the grandparents.

A brasserie on the square with the tower across the river, a lift-free ground floor, high chairs and a sole for whoever wants one.

Stand at the bridge for the tower's five minutes of sparkle on the hour, two hundred metres from the restaurant, then the taxi home.

The old station with lifts to every level, benches in front of the Monets and the big clock the children recognise; one floor and stop.

Lunch in the 1900 hotel ballroom under the chandeliers, a set menu and chairs with arms, without leaving the building.

Across the footbridge to the garden, green chairs to drag into the shade, a pond with toy sailboats for hire and ice cream by the gate.

The funicular on a metro ticket takes everyone up the hill at once, and the view from the basilica steps is the postcard.

Antoine Westermann's roast chicken for the table, carved and shared, with a long bench and the potatoes cooked under the bird.

Renoir's garden and the painters' studio, the museum small and flat enough for a slow afternoon, with a tearoom among the roses.

The 1912 stained-glass dome from the lift, then the rooftop terrace with a bench and the Opéra below; no ticket, no stairs.

The grand staircase and Chagall's ceiling on a self-guided visit, lifts to the foyer level, the children hunting for the phantom's box.

The grand café of 1862 opposite the opera, a club sandwich and a mille-feuille at a table on the terrace, the taxi rank beside it.