Salut de France

Day 1

Train to Gatwick where we got to cross that massive new bridge and then share a plane with Lawrence Llewellyn Bowen. I like him, (I think he may be misunderstood) but he still chose to wear his Ray Bans emerging from Nice Airport in the dark.
Hire car to Cap Ferrat and the Brise Marine hotel.

Day 2

From the Brise Marine Terrace

Breakfast at a cafe in the port. Found a 100 euro note on the ground outside Spar, spent it at Paloma Beach on Lobster Pasta and Steak and Chips and stuff. After lunch we lay on sun beds. Next to us were an American couple. Cast your mind back to Ursula Andress emerging from the sea wearing not a lot in the Dr No film. Now replace her with a lady 40 years her senior and 40 inches larger in the chest, without a bikini top and carrying a small dog instead of a conch. The Americans were doing their best to disguise their excitement. Back in Iowa (where going topless is much more frowned upon than shooting someone), they were going to get to show their buddies a photo of this abomination. Bear in mind nobody else is batting an eyelid, the camera is passed boy to girl, she discretely points and presses. The deed done, the bloke wanders off.

We have not even exchanged a hello up to this point. "Don't see that very often in the States", I mention casually to the girl. There is a bit of a delay as she realises she is busted. "No", she manages. "A little dog like that in the sea", I continue.

Short dip.

That evening we trudge about the peninsula, dressed up so we can sample a couple of cocktails at The Grand Hotel du Cap. Not bad.

Day 3

Cafe by the port (zoom in for traditional knife sharpening action)

Breakfast at the same cafe. I ask an old man next to me how much he paid for his Daily Telegraph. He has just had time to tell me 3 euros and his wife promptly grabs it off him, gives it to us and then goes next door to buy another "tidier" one. Two seats beyond the lovely old man is a big English guy about my age, who I hear explaining to the lady that he has cancer of a great many parts of his body, including his bones. He is in France to be taken care of by French physicians whom he says are excellent. (He is not allowed the treatment at home on the NHS but the French Doctor's bills are paid by the NHS). God bless him, he didn't look good.

Later we had Tapas at the Mirador Hotel in Monaco. Not expensive, very tasty.

"They went that way...."