Fireworks in Cannes – lady decorator to blame

August 25, 2010

tags: Cannes, Cote D Azur, Currencies Direct, Ex Pats Golf, Food & wine, Golf in Valbonne, Living In France, Moving To France

To Cannes last night to witness the firework challenge final which has been running throughout the summer. Apparently last night was the culmination of the summers competition, which is fought out between about 5 different countries and their firework makers (pity they haven’t got proper jobs) where the winners get to have another go. Huge and very impressive fireworks displays have been staged on a weekly basis, presented by different countries with the winner getting a celebratory repeat performance last night.

Driving it to this event in the past has been a nightmare, once taking 90 minutes to get back, most of it trying to extricate ourselves from Cannes centre, so the decision was made, let the train take the strain. Mouans Sartoux to the centre of Cannes 17 minutes.

Having failed once again to buy tickets due to the vagaries of the french ticketing system at Mouans Sartoux, where there is only the machine dispensing option, we set off for Cannes.

Dinner was taken outside on a restaurant beside the port, my aoili being particularly good.

Later, after another magnificent display had been witnessed whilst consuming a nice St Emilion and a rather ordinary chardonnay, we arrived back at Cannes station, with a full load of alcoholic fuel on board to find that the entrance was barred by gendarmes, who were ensuring that all revellers had tickets.

This is a departure for the french, there are normally no ticket inspectors, so, if the machine dispensing tickets fails to function correctly, which is about 50% of the time, one has no ticket, before last night, it was not a problem as one takes the train and attempts an esplanade (to try to explain something whilst drunk) with the ticket collector, and pay the fine, unless he gets bored with an English esplanade.

I have always found it very useful when faced with French bureaucracy to speak English, particularly loudly with a full Oxford accent. You know the kind of stuff ” My dear chap, there must be some kind of ghastly misunderstanding” said in a Terry Thomas style. It is also important in these cases not to attempt any french language at all, as this can be seen as a sign of weakness, making it clear to petty officialdom that you are a tourist with no idea how the system works, should there be a collector on board, which has not happened in living memory.

That nice lady decorator panicked when seeing this and after remonstrating with various gun-toting gendarmes (in English) was sent to buy a ticket from the ticket booth. She objected most strongly to what as she considered this anti-British behaviour and made her point clear at a decibel level close to excruciating.

Once on the train I pointed out that it was she that was in the wrong and the gendarmes were right but as usual, she was having none of that.

By chance yesterday, I was sent a selection of funny or inappropriate signs. Amongst those is this one.

Steve, whenever you feel the need, please look at this photo. It will be our little secret, no one else need know

As regular readers will know, I have a golfing companion, Steve Weston, who is a leading light in the Regs and Landlubber golf groups who has a rather alarming and well documented sheep fetish. Steve, print this picture off a dozen times and then stick them all around your house. You know it makes sense.

Chris France

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