Tuesday 29th July 2014
I have a small pile of money in my French bank account. However, the date on my debit card has recently expired and I can’t get my hands on this pile. Like a drug craving junkie desperately seeking a fix (yes I’m still reading Harry Hole) I had to get my hands on my pile. In France you collect your card from your branch so a trip to Cannes was required. I know, I know blooming nuisance or what?
The morning began with croissants – 4 for 3 at the nearby Total garage – paid for in 10 and 20 centimes pieces that were amassing rapidly. I felt chuffed getting them spent. The 4 euros in 1 and 2 centimes pieces I am though finding harder to shift.
Fuelled by Croissants we headed for Cannes and encountered a bit of slow moving traffic on the coast road up to Ste Maxime but nothing too awful. Traffic seems to be flowing better than we have known it do in the past in high season. In Cannes though we realised that the country is not yet a post public transport society and the local council has rammed a two lane bus route through the middle of the main road into Cannes. This was not good and held us up good style.
Parked we entered the bank and received our card in about 30 seconds! Now that is not the efficiency I’m used to with French banks. Heck I was so impressed I nearly asked about Internet banking!
Ah. Card in hand the craving was appeased but it was Peanut who had her fix first, hitting on a very pretty dress in a rather nice shop called Le Phare de la Baleine. Seeing my bestie have her craving massaged mine was reaching fever pitch. In desperation I threw two huge bath towels and a flannel into the mix and somewhat ameliorated my craving. Calmed by that wonderful solid push you give your card as you ram it into the handheld card reader, I set off to browse Cannes in a more leisurely manner. We stepped out of the shop and saw a superb carbon fibre customised Mercedes Gullwing.
We want a new rug to finish off our living room which we had decorated at Christmas. Chinese perhaps? Budget about £600. Four shops along from Le Phare de la Belaine was a rug shop. In the window was the most gorgeous rug in the whole world ever darling. No price. We should have known. But we had a card, so shiny and new you could read the security number! We stepped in.
“3700 euros Sir.”I muttered my apologies, it was way out of my league. He smiled. His boss was hovering. Shit he’s clocked my watch – the numpyy thinks I can afford it.
“We can do a 30 percent discount 2500 euros.” Bartering.
“Fif…” And I felt a sharp dig in the ribs as P had already calculated that fifty per cent was still way out of our league! We shuffled out knowing we had just looked at the Rolex of rugs!
There used to be a groovy house shop full of cool gadgets such as trendy chairs or sexy weather stations and we thought we might find a clock in there for our living room but unfortunately the shop was no more and Cannes failed to yield up any other clocks to tempt us with.
We shared a burger and a dessert at a restaurant on the harbour front. It was delicious but honestly we could never have eaten one each. For good measure we also shared the dessert which was filled with hot runny Carambar. Delicious! It’s a sad day though, when even the French are seeing such a huge thing as food for one. Carry on like that and you will be chasing on the heels of the UK which is now officially Europe’s most obese nation.
After lunch we explored the harbour, spotted some ferries to some nearby islands and decided we would pop back on Friday to explore one of the islands, which has a monastery and a great beach. I can’t wait to see what I make of that combination as my mind pictures monks sunbathing naked on the beach then rushing indoors for a quick spot of self flagellation on their already burned bodies! I returned to reality and grabbed a pretty picture of P by the harbour.
By now our feet were done for so we headed back to PaceBeast and home. No traffic on the way back but too lazy to cook we grabbed a hot chicken and some potatoes from a takeaway kiosk opposite the entrance to Port Grimaud. Bizarrely they also sold very expensive champagne some bottles at well over a hundred pounds each. Now as you all know, I am of course a retired international playboy but when I think back to my heyday (obviously so vivid in my mind) did I ever pull over in my Aston to grab a hot chicken and an expensive champagne as an overture to lovemaking? Yep makes sense in my virtual mind! Indeed P said this approach would work with her too. So now you know why the hot chicken kiosk on the road into St Tropez also sells expensive champagne!
Thank you and goodnight!