Cap that

At the corner where a spur turns off from the little peninsula that is Cap Ferrat between Nice and Monaco, you can take some steps down to a little restaurant on Paloma Beach. The stony little cove looks out on to gently rippling blue and green water which supports twenty or so boats which are anchored about 100 metres away. They are mostly posh yachts. Occasionally a little launch will bring diners to the jetty avoiding the diving kids. The restaurant itself is not much more than a two storey shack. The word Paloma stands on the roof in red letters stylized as though they were a 60's motor racing brand. The dining area is mailnly beneath large cream awnings. The diners are varied; today there were Italian businessmen, a small peleton of cyclists (excuse the choice of collective noun, but I like the word), tourists and people from the boats. From the edge of the water you can look up at the stonking residences nestled in clumps of fur and cypress tress. Swim out a little way for a better view and you can hear the cutlery clinking on the plates; they've probably got a man to do it.

During lunch a fat Italian man's chair gave way under the strain.