FEBRUARY 2009. The whole of Britain is under ninety seven feet of snow. Siberian winds are blasting across the landscape, remorselessly slicing down what little is forced or dares to remain above the snow line. The transport network, public order and sanitation have long since disintegrated, and telecommunications exist only in tiny spread out pockets around the country. Temperatures of minus eighty nine degrees Celsius and starvation ravaged looters have left half the population dead, the remaining half at a constant threat from flesh-eating snowmen, mutated at an incredible rate from the once harmless man-made fun sculptures that so recently entertained the nation’s children..........or so the media would have you believe.
Yes it snowed, and yes transport was severely disrupted. It’s also true that Britain’s school children were forced to abandon the classics for a few days in favour of some extreme tobogganing and skating on thin ice. You could argue that we should be better prepared for cold and snow in winter – other countries seem to cope very well. But doesn’t the media just love it! Give them any kind of a molehill and pretty soon it’ll stand Everest-like splashed across front pages, TV screens and internet home pages. Cold and snow? In winter? Outrageous!!
The morning of Thursday 5th Feb was pretty bad. A few days earlier snow had rendered the UK helpless and that meant Bryan, Sandra, Angie, Lynda and me – off to the South of France for a well deserved long weekend break - had gone to bed on the Wednesday evening (not all together of course) with our fingers crossed that we’d have a clear run to the airport the next day, and that having got there our flight wouldn’t be cancelled. Nature though had other ideas and so when Lynda and I got up the next morning we saw that there had been a fresh and not insignificant dump of snow. Sensibly deciding to set-off early, our mobiles were soon red hot as travel and progress updates were swapped between Bryan’s car and ours. The radio reports were all of traffic chaos, broken down and jack-knifed vehicles and of more concern, gridlock around the airport and flight delays and cancellations.
Despite our journey to the airport taking around two and half hours longer than usual, and not knowing what we’d find when we tried to check-in, the five of us were all remarkably upbeat - something that I put down to simply not being at work. The scene at the airport was very different to what we’d expected. No massive queues of sleep-deprived, psychotic passengers raging at disinterested airline staff, nor were there the makeshift cardboard beds that normally litter the concourse in similar situations. Calm and order prevailed and despite many flights being cancelled or delayed, miraculously ours was shown not only as still going, but also as being on time. In the event we were delayed for two hours but we spent the time very productively in one of the bars – well mostly Bryan and me while the girls did a bit of window-shopping. Bryan wisely suggested we run a sweep – a Euro a guess – as to what time we would actually take off. Nearest to the correct time would collect the pot. The range spanned an hour or so but the others might as well have just handed over their Euros to me in the bar because after a few nail-biting moments sitting on the taxi way when the prize could have easily gone to either me or Sandra, I ran out take-off champ, having wisely turned down Bryan’s offer of double or quits for the return flight!!
We touched down at Nice and whilst the rest of us lingered by the baggage belt Bryan went for the hire car / bus. A most excellent Renault ‘Kangoo’ as it turned out. Spacious and very comfortable, it was one of the many things that served us perfectly during our stay.
Les Girls, en route to Cannes
Being Posh in the Carlton
Some gentle window shopping followed – primarily bags for the ladies, macaroons like we’d had in the Carlton for me and Bryan. Happily the boys had considerable more success. A very upmarket patiserie/chocolatiere made the mistake of leaving a sizeable basket of mixed macaroon samples on the counter. We spotted it from the pavement and so while Sandra and the girls distracted the unsuspecting Frenchman behind the counter by buying some very expensive chocolate gingers, Bryan and I carried out several lightning raids on the samples, eventually leaving the premises having scoffed the lot. Monsieur wasn’t quite as unsuspecting as I thought though because he did give us a fairly withering look as we left.
The Fab Four - Cannes style
A very wet Croisette
Having had a sufficient fix of Cannes for the day it was back to St Cezaire, once again stopping for the ingredients - including champagne, - for that night’s feast, which was my turn to create. As with the previous evening the girls took care of the shopping and champagne chilling while me and Bryan accidentally went into the Fountain Bar. To be fair though, after a few beers with Alain (chef, barman and probably many other things) and Eric (a customer unfortunate enough to have been thirsty at the same time as us) we phoned the ladies who nipped up to join us for a drink. When the beer had sufficiently stimulated the creative bit of my small and overworked brain we went home opened champagne and many other lovely wines, cooked, ate, cleared up, played trivial pursuit, laughed a great deal and finally dragged ourselves off to bed.
Everyone claimed to have slept like logs when we gathered around Saturday’s breakfast table, which probably sharpened our appetites and encouraged us to lay into the eggs, croissants, fresh bread, fruit, yoghurts and multitudes of jams and home-made marmalades – from Bryan and Sandra’s own oranges growing in their garden.
Saturday is market day in St Cezaire and in the better weather the whole town is transformed into a blur of foodstuffs, clothes, cutlery, table cloths and even grandfather clocks. The winter reduces but doesn’t defeat the market and despite the damp and far fewer stalls it was still lovely to wander round the goods in the fresh air. It also gave Lynda the opportunity for giving our new camera a run out and soon she was furiously snapping the town, its inhabitants, me, Bryan, Sandra and Angie and anything that drifted into the range of her viewfinder. Our previous camera was a Canon, as too is this new one. However we’ve gone from an Ixus 500 to a G10, which two weeks ago would have meant sod-all to me. The main difference, apart from the look, is that the G10 has far more functionality, none of which I’ve yet to fathom.
Enough pictures taken it was once more into the ‘Fountain’ for a coffee and a great suggestion from Bryan for the remainder of Saturday; a run out to Cabris nearby and grab a bit of lunch, and a table for five in the Fountain for dinner at eight.
Cabris is a very lovely, very small town a few miles from St Cezaire. Not as typically a French village as St Cezaire or with the same level of facilities, but it does boast spectacular views and some excellent restaurants. It was one of these we dropped into for lunch and despite not knowing what we ordered when we opted for the Plat du Jour, we were delighted with what turned out to be a beautiful piece of fish.
Le Petit Prince - our lunch stop at Cabris
Slightly relaxed by the fresh air and the food – nothing to do with the wine of course – we went back to the house and crashed out in front of a really good DVD. Lynda and I had wanted to see ‘Legends of the Fall’ for years and just hadn’t got around to it. Luckily it was in the DVD box still in its film wrapper so it got the vote; we stuck it on and thoroughly enjoyed it. After the film we went to get fabulised and then reconvened for a pre-dinner glass of champagne then walked to the ‘Fountain’.
Despite our rather feeble protests Angie insisted that she was going to treat us to dinner that night. Naturally we opted for the most expensive and largest dishes on offer. Only kidding, though neither did we go hungry!! Once again, several beers, pastis and glasses of wine accompanied a superb selection of pizzas, salad and something we all really craved – chips!!! Alain graciously sent over some complimentary Armagnac at the end of the meal which we gratefully accepted and quickly dispatched. An already excellent evening was rounded off very nicely by dessert and coffees back at the house, followed by a slightly dodgy but highly enjoyable ‘sixties’ quiz and believe it or not, ‘Match of the Day’!!
Sunday once again started with an excellent breakfast and then a quick burst of activity that normally accompanies the last day of any trip. After hastily chucking our bits and pieces into the cases and having a quick scour round the house to leave it in perfect order we spent a very pleasant hour or so with Jackie and Alex, Brit ex-pats who settled in the village several years ago, and who’d dropped by for coffee. Not only are they good company but also very handy people to know from a practical point of view. Bryan discussed broadband installation and a job in the garden, before my ears pricked up even more when I heard that Alex is a budding guitar maestro, having just purchased a Fender Strat – wise choice Alex. It turns out that the whole family, apart from Jackie (unless you include her ‘Arse on Stairs’ Symphony No.2) has a musical bent and between them could muster a reasonable band.
After saying cheerio to our coffee time guests we once more loaded the hire car and set-off for Cannes. Today was so different to Friday’s trip. Where it had bucketed down on that occasion, Sunday was a really beautiful day. The sun had come out to wish us bon voyage and to show the town in its true light as we and several thousands of other spilled onto the streets to take in the sights, sounds and smells. I gave up counting Ferraris, Lamborghinis and top end Mercedes after a short while. Luxury yachts are commonplace as too are the obviously very wealthy folk that own them all. The air, heavy with the smell of garlic, sizzling steaks and savoury seafood, soon had our stomachs rumbling and so after a very enjoyable stroll and a welcome toilet break for Bryan and me – sorry Cannes, we couldn’t get the Tardis bogs to work so were forced to relieve ourselves in one of your ornamental shrubberies – we decided it was time for lunch / dinner. Being such a beautiful day we really wanted to eat outside but as you can imagine plenty of others were thinking the same thing and as such none of the first few restaurants we walked past had anything available. The next one had closed its kitchen for the afternoon – very silly policy as despite it being three thirty, loads of people were still looking to eat, including us. The next place was we thought, very appropriately named for us to eat in – Le Grand Café - and not only was the kitchen open but the manager made sure there was an outside table free for us by taking one from inside and having it laid outside. That is service.
Le Grand Cafe in Cannes
A wonderful meal followed, as it always does in France. So rarely have we been disappointed there that the five of us struggled to remember when it had ever happened. There was a slight air of discontent that we did really have to go home. Our snow dances earlier in the weekend had failed to get the airport closed for our return trip, neither had we won the lottery, so after completing the domestics like returning the hire car and checking in, we eventually boarded, took-off and arrived on schedule, all of us reaching home safe, sound, tired and not looking forward to going back to work.
Thanks first of all to Bryan and Sandra once again for their hospitality. It’s a lovely house, in a lovely place, owned by two lovely people who luckily for us love sharing it. Thanks to them and to Lynda and Angie for their company, generosity and their perfect sense of humour. Thanks also to the locals – French and Brits - who always make us feel very welcome. Finally thanks to Easyjet for getting us away and home again with the minimum of fuss under some pretty crappy circumstances – well done.
