Salut de France (IV)

Techno Prisoners

Dqy 9

So we have arrived at Hi Hotel, and a "techno corner" room. After a short burst of sunbqthing on the roof I returned to the room to cool off qnd beco,e properly aquainted zith its powers. The TV is projected on to a screen which is slides into the gqp between the bed qnd the bqth so you cqn watch it fro, either. I decided to hqve q cool bqth; whilst it was running I fired up the TV qnd negotiqted the complicqted controls to find the correct chqnnel and sound etc. I also set the lighting levels and closed the rqther nice electric shutters.

A little nice oil qdded to the bqth, I plonked my bottom down into the water and the TV picture simultqneously dissappeqred. I decided to bite the bullet qnd get out qnd dry ,yself to sort the TV. At this point I discovered thqt there was quite q lot of water on the floor. In the dqrkness I checked round the other side of the bqth next to the wall dicovering even more water. As I stood up I hit my heqd on the brqcket thqt holds the gold fish bowl. It hqs tqken a few hours to beco,e qble to operqte things but I have now leqrned how to operqte the screen by stqnding on the bed to press the buttons on the porjector qnd found thqt no ,qtter how you hqve set the water, so,e will co,e out of the shower heqd which is neqr the bqth but not qbove it: The roo, is nice but there is nowhere to put qnything so I would reco,,end it as a novelty but think it would beco,e chqllenging for q week, unlike this french keybqrd which took no ti,e qt qll.

Salut de France (le troisieme)

Day 7

Tree house

The safe in our room is too small to accept my lap top so I decided that rather than carrying it around as I have been; I would conceal it on top of the wardrobe. I stood on a slightly wobbly chair to achieve this. I am thinking about stepping down when it shoots out behind me and my attempt to regain my balance results in it returning sharply to the vertical. I am however horizontal now, hovering for a fraction of a second six inches above it. What happened next was quite sore.

Quite sore (too many abdomen shots, ed.)

We walked to the old town to see the flower market but there was a flea market there instead. After an orange presse we pressed on into the little alleys and came across a building called the Palais Lascarais. It was impressive in the way that it was so vertical in a tight space. I particularly liked the way the small (room size) courtyards, (open to the elements) were treated almost like indoor spaces. They were cool because they were so deep (and presumably fairly dry in the rain). My ideal house would have outdoor space for living in, rather than (or as well as)a garden.

Alley Palais

Returned to the hotel kind of early after a drink in a Libyan place which came with falafels and dips and things; nice. Enjoyed a comedy cocktail in the hotel bar. Asked for a vodka martini and the woman said she'd have to get the barman. He came and gave me a glass with vodka, sweet martini, a chunk of lemon rind and an olive in it. Not very Sanderson Hotel, but you had to admire its gung-ho attitude.

Those balconies and windows are painted on.

Saw no celebrities today but did dream that Bob Geldof stopped me in the street to mention how much he liked my jacket.

Day 8

Best lunch of the holiday so far at a place called Karr on a nice little street with willow trees on either side shimmering in the breeze. I ordered something called Poelee de seiches which was delicious (google has just explained to me that it is cuttlefish; I had not asked in the restaurant) followed by figs in port. Call me naff but I will be returning before I go back to England; I wanted everything that I saw being eaten at the other tables.

Bought some black toilet rolls and other toiletries.

Other tall trees

Salut de France (deux)

Day 4

After breakfast at the usual place, we check out of the hotel with a bit of a heavy heart and head for Nice. I am a bit grumpy as the next hotel is not very nice. Dinner at a restaurant where they are showing a football game. The waiter is playing the "I cannot understand you game". Gemma says it is my fault but his wife takes over and things move much more smoothly.

Day 5

Walked along Rue de France as far as the Taoist bookshop where, as last time, I had a short conversation with the owner. He has no books in English, and I suspect thinks I am a bit of an idiot.

Lunch at a cafe near the Galleries Lafayette. Got chatting to an English couple. He was quite intense, fit looking, wearing nice clothes, 59 (aparently), his wife looked attractive and expensive. He was excited about the new Lexus hybrid he will be getting at the end of the month. He told me that he and his wife had been in Nice only a few months ago with another couple. They were in their hire car, stopped at some lights when someone opened one of the back doors and tried to relieve his wife of her handbag. Our new friend looked like he would have been quite tasty in his day. He told me that the most interesting thing about the experience was his response to it. He said that he was "the kind of guy that you could throw a glass of wine over in a club and he would walk away". (Somewhere in my head I enjoyed experimenting with this idea, deciding it was not very safe). However he had seen red and rugby tackled the young tike as he sprinted off. In so doing he badly damaged his knee and the would be thief wriggled free to jump on the back of a waiting get away scooter. This was a big deal for him and his account of it felt very personal, like a warning. He had turned his chair towards me and I noticed that several times he touched my arm, unusual I thought.

Saw those two gay Scottish TV interior designers coming out of Emporio Armani, they saw me pointing them out to Gemma.

Day 6

Moved to the Hotel Windsor. Much better. Continuing the celeb theme, Michael Caines, (the two Michelin Star chef with a plastic hand) was sitting in reception.


Walked all the way up to the Matisse Museum in Cimiez, the posh bit of Nice up the hill. From his early work there was a still life of a small pile of books on a table. It didn't appear to be painted particularly delicately, nontheless I could imagine the feeling of the pages of one of the books with a slightly turned up corner against, my thumb. Is that why they call it still life? Art like that brings things to life, it has a kind of heat. I noticed that the French for still life seems to be Nature Morte however.

Nature very much not morte in the garden of the Hotel Windsor

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...."