Tuesday 3rd February

11.30am
On Karlova, just over Karluv most in the Stare Mesto district, we spot the first “My brother / friend / dog went to Prague and all I got was this lousy T-shirt” T-shirts. We manage to resist the temptation.

Noon
In the beautiful Staromestske namesti (Old Town Square), wowed by the Astronomical Clock on the side of the Town Hall and the awesome twin-towered Gothic Tyn Church which rises up ominously like something out of ‘Dracula’. We sit and take it all in, nursing cups of fiendishly strong Turkish-style black coffee that, when accidentally spilt, bronzes our hands like fake tan. A bunch of bumbling shaven-headed Geordies pass by, looking very lost indeed.

1pm
The Art Nouveau Obecni Dum – glitzy, but nothing compared to St Nicholas Church.

2pm
Lunch in Café Imperial, which, with its grubby exterior but impossibly grand mosaic ceiling and tiled columns inside, recalls the faded splendour of a seaside hotel. I’m convinced a bearded Jack Nicholson is lurking somewhere, waiting to break through a door with an axe. Serenaded by classic 50s rock ‘n’ roll, I am presented with a stuffed pork steak and a baked potato smothered in staggeringly potent garlic mayonnaise.

3.30pm
In Josefov, the former Jewish quarter. The walls of the otherwise austere Pinkas Synagogue are covered with the names of the 77,297 Czech Jews who perished in the Holocaust, while upstairs glass cabinets display pictures drawn by some of the children who lived in the Terezin ghetto camp, most of whom met their death in the gas chambers of Auschwitz. Outside we wander around the Stary Zidovsky hrbitov (Old Jewish Cemetery), where thousands of gravestones cluster and list unevenly like broken teeth. A sobering experience.

4.30pm
Raining again. A man sat in the street fishing through a drain grille suddenly starts barking. We pass Erotic City, an emporium which, its windows boast, caters for “gay, piss, sandwich, fist, anal”. Lovely.

5pm
Vaclavske namesti (Wenceslas Square), at the centre of the Nove Mesto district and the modern hub of the city. With the enormous neon signs perched on the rooftops and the smell of synthetic French fries everywhere, it’s just like Piccadilly Circus. One look is enough to convince us we don’t want to come back again.

5.30pm
I’m becoming increasingly aware of the Czech love of books – small independent bookshops (Knihkupectvi) are everywhere, their window displays filled not with pastel-coloured chick-lit slop or Andy McNab style testosterone-‘n’-guns-fuelled romps but with the works of Czech structuralists.

6pm
A nice quiet drink in Staromestske namesti – at least until the Hare fucking Krishnas arrive. Tyn Church, lit up in the darkness, looks even more impressive. I imagine bats wheeling round the turrets and spires, occasionally sweeping down into the gas-lit square to feast on the blood of unsuspecting tourists.

8pm
U Karlova Mostu pivnice. Having had a hole blown in my head by the nuclear strength horseradish sauce that accompanies my smoked sausage starter, I recover sufficiently to tuck away half a pig and gulp down some refreshing lager which douses the flames.

11.30pm
Never thought I’d say this, but I’m happy to be in an Irish theme bar, the reason being that J J Murphy’s is showing highlights of the Middlesbrough v Arsenal League Cup match. What’s more, the TV’s on mute and there’s a ZZ Top album playing on the stereo. Doing our best to avoid the awful American teenagers upstairs, we get through a couple of glasses of Staropramen and discover that the Patron Saint of Miners and Gunners is called St Barbara. Don’t ask me where or how this discovery was made, I don’t remember.

12.30am
Walking home we pass a shop with a special Valentines Day offer in the window – a pair of green boxer shorts adorned with bees wearing sunglasses. I decide they wouldn’t suit me. J makes mental note to get up early the next day, sneak out and buy them for me. Mercifully, suffering from a bit of a hangover, she forgets.