I can’t think of a title for this post. Merde.

27 January 2007

I’ve posted the aerial photos I took as we were flying over France to Cannes. Getting a window seat is a dandy thing. I just wish that people would have the courtesy to label things so that I know what they are when I’m flying thousands of feet above them. Otherwise, you’re stuck with the somewhat dumb-sounding labels of “France” and “Mountain” when you come to load your photos up to Flickr.

It was pretty late in the day when we got to our hotel in Cannes, having taken the train from Nice at rush hour, in the dark and thus deprived of the coastal views that we had chosen over travelling by bus along the motorway. We got a taxi from Cannes station to the Cannes Beach hotel, checked in and took lift “Fantastique” to our room. I’m not sure what the other lifts were called. Just “Trés bien” and “Adéquat” perhaps?

The long windowless corridors leading to all the hundreds of rooms were a bit prison-like, but once we were in our room, it was perfectly nice. The room was actually a small self-catering apartment, with a balcony overlooking the internal courtyard. In my first emails to the hotel, I had requested a twin room – one room, two beds. There were a couple of bunk beds off the main room and a double bed in a separate bedroom. However, only the double bed was made up, so Suzy and I just shared that for the three nights. When in Rome, do as the Romans do. When in France, be lesbians.

For some reason I didn’t sleep particularly well while I was there, but perhaps it was best to have been awake and on guard while Suzy was doing her very best to invade what can only be described as my side of the bed. The third night she even took it upon herself to give me a knee up the bum, just so I wouldn’t forget she was there.

The first morning, I was woken by a text at 6.50am. The rogue I’d come to see wanted to know where I was. Bearing in mind that in my head it was 5.50am, I think it’s unsurprising that I was still in my room in my PJs. We met for breakfast in the dining room a couple of hours later, where I also later met the rest of his troupe for the first time. A damn fine bunch of people.

Suzy and I retired to our hotel room to doze and be lethargic until another text summoned me to the lobby, from where the three of us wandered to the beach before heading into the town centre. There we had a decidedly continental-length lunch at Le Petit Paris. Suzy and I had Croque Monsieur (a kind of cheese and ham toastie) and His Highness had Andouillette (tripe sausage). Because he’s just that crazy.

That evening Suzy and I tried to get into the Midem opening night party with the other guys, but despite brandishing invitations and being with several other people who did have accreditation, the security guys wouldn’t let us in. They were like the dinner ladies of Cannes – not actually all that important in the scheme of things and yet somehow all-powerful. But never mind, Suzy and I were pretty knackered anyway, so we found a restaurant and filled our bellies with food – and I, of course, sent a picture to Flickr of what was on my plate. I like to share.

The first photos from Cannes are up on Flickr now.