G20 and The France Show

With the G20 summit taking place in Cannes and horror stories reaching me of almost lock down in the centre of the town, plus warnings that some lanes on the motorway were going to be closed between Nice Airport and Cannes to allow presidential types to avoid the motorway tolls, I thought I should leave plenty of time to get to the airport for my flight to misery (England) yesterday. 18 minutes after setting off I was at the airport, two and a half hours before my flight. No one had told me it was a public holiday and the roads were empty.

So the joys of Easyjet were once again visited upon me and I will suffer similar ignominy this evening when I fly back, parental duty done for this week. However with two children to clear up behind, I will have to do the same thing all over again next week for sprog 2. There are many things from France that  I always miss when I am away, but one thing that I do not miss is their love of gaudy decorative items, and one that I would never miss, especially if I had a gun, is this little beauty which I photographed in renowned fish restaurant Nounou at Golfe Juan at the weekend. Indeed nounou is exactly what I would say if I go there again and I am paying.

If the cost of eating here does not make you vomit, then prolonged staring at this would work for me.

It is hard to believe that whilst we have been enjoying this rather warm and very pleasant weather down here in the south of France that the skiing season will be upon us in a month. It is much easier to believe that skiing would be available near Guildford considering the weather than greeted my return to the old country. I had arranged, or rather, Mr Clipboard had arranged for us to have lunch at an Argentinian steak house in Guildford at 2.20 after meeting at the Angel Post House as long as I caught the 13.41 from Gatwick to Guildford and it was not delayed. Doubtless he would have had a contingency plan had this not worked in any way. He is particularly good at organising anything, especially when it involves eating food which he is very good at. Caucaucau was the name of the restaurant I think, and cow what we ate.

Sadly I was not accompanied by that nice lady decorator on this occasion as she is still doing her Long John Silver eyepatch act back in France due to stabbing herself in the eye with some vegetation. That of course required me to drink more beer than I had originally intended, ably assisted by my son who more than stood in for her in the beer drinking stakes.

Exciting news arrived that I have been invited to sign and sell copies of my book at The France Show in Earls Court by Currencies Direct, one of the lead sponsors of the show which takes place in January. Some may consider that the book launch next Monday in Valbonne could also be loosely described as The France Show, but I could not possibly comment.  This great opportunity to spread the news of the lives of the idle rich in Valbonne is tempered by the fact that I will have to spend several days in London in mid January in deepest winter, but there it is, the price of fame. I must be strong.

Today I must to and beat up Santander for outrageous charges of £150 for my sons £50 unofficial overdraft then I suspect it will be to Wagamamas for lunch before the tender mercies of Easyjet take me home tonight, too late for tennis.

Chris France