18. Sep, 2022
SUNDAY 18-09-22
Oh dear, that was a long night. We'd closed the bedroom window because it became to cool the night before, and so just relied on the two roof vents being fully opened. This meant that being a Saturday night the road outside was very busy, and very noisy until very late with all the Jack-the-Lad's driving like idiots, with their car stereo's turned up high, no doubt impressed the chicks.
I know I'd finally managed to slip in to a deep sleep by 01:30, because that's when my darling Chef decided she needed the bathroom and proceeded to climb over me to get out of bed. I didn't really get back to sleep after that, having to settle for what felt like long naps.
But no matter, we awoke to a lovely sunny day with a cunning plan to walk inland on a nature trail running beside the river to Villeneuve-Loubet Old Town, somewhere we had yet to visit, despite this being our fourth visit here.
Given that we weren't up too early, The Chef suggested we have an early lunch before setting off. This would avoid us having to find somewhere to eat, or to take a packed lunch with us. That made sense, so that's what we did.
So a bit about Villeneuve-Loubet:
Situated between Nice and Cannes, Villeneuve Loubet is a delightful area split into two parts - a seaside resort with plenty of outdoor activities and a fascinating old town.
The best way to discover the old village is to take a bus or leave your car in the large “Plans” car park and walk along the river. Starting at the mouth of the Loup (meaning “wolf”) river it is a short stroll to the old town of Villeneuve-Loubet. It is interlaced with pretty lanes which open up into picturesque squares with art galleries and cafes. There is a 13th century castle with a cobbled courtyard and ramparts & walls to explore. The village itself was rebuilt in the 16th century and has many beautiful examples of Renaissance architecture, as well as a Museum of Art and History.
The beach resort of Villeneuve Loubet Plage is dominated by the purpose built, 1500 bed apartment block which is supposed to resemble three large white waves rolling in from the sea. At 70 metres high, they dominate the horizon and certainly draw your attention. Whilst they may not be to everyone's taste, the architect has created that rare apartment block where every flat has a terrace and a view.
The main events in history occurred during the 20th century with the town being one of many important battle sites during World War II. It was liberated by the First Special Service Force on August 26, 1944. The tower of the castle was damaged by a shell fired by the US Navy, and dozens of soldiers from both sides were killed or wounded. In 2006, the bodies of fourteen Germans who were killed during the fighting were discovered in a mass grave near the town by a local medical student.
Villeneuve-Loubet is also the birthplace of the famous 19th century Provencal chef and father of “haute-cuisine”, Auguste Escoffier, the Musée de l’Arte Culinaire documents his career, with exhibits including his menus and recipes, as well as old cooking implements and kitchen devices.
The walk along the nature trail, which I believe is commonly referred to locally as Avenue Doggie Sheeeto, didn't take us too long.
Don't ask me why, but I rather fancied visiting the Musée de l’Arte Culinaire which covers the life of Auguste Escoffier (1846-1935). He's French I know, but he can't help that.
After we'd huffed and puffed our way up to the museum entrance we discovered that it didn't re-open until 14:00 after the staff had enjoyed a lie down, so we were half an hour early. The solution was simple, we'd just walk on by and look around the rest of the village.
We came across the village church in a small square with a couple of shaded benches and so had a sit down and rest. After a reasonable period of time I decided to climb a little higher to see if I could find the entrance to the chateau. I did indeed find it, and it too was closed, but was due to open ten minutes later and it already had a queue of about a dozen people. I did approach the closed gates to see if I could get a decent picture of the exterior of the building but there was no chance of that. I reported back to The Chef, and we agreed we were not interested in visiting the chateau anyway, so having enjoyed the views down to the sea below we made our way down to the museum www.musee-escoffier.com . The entrance fee was a very reasonable four euros each and our visit was greatly assisted by the free loan of English-speaking audio guides.
We'd been beaten to the opening by a group of French visitors who were having a personal tour with a member of staff. What she found to talk about I've no idea, but she went on for ages, so much so that we decided to jump the section they were in and get ahead of them, returning to that part later. The plan worked. I have no intention of boring you with the achievements of the man but will give you the Wikipedia link to him https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Auguste_Escoffie
About two thirds of the way round we came across what used to be the cellar, but was now a mini cinema running a very long video in French of course, about Auguste's life. It was lovely and cool and we were the only ones in there so when the presentation started we sat down and got comfortable. Due to nothing more than boredom I closed my eyes, but opened them up at one point to find myself thinking I was watching John Wayne's film 'She Wore a yellow Ribbon'. It appears at that point they were featuring Auguste's life in the army fighting some war or other.
Incidently, there was never any truth in the story that his love child was Fanny Cradock.
At the end of the tour the young lady told us that if we went and sat in the patio area she would bring us some Peach Melba (Auguste created the dessert and named it after the showbiz celebrity Dame Nellie Melba).
My word it was nice. So nice that The Chef, who has always told me she didn't like peaches ate hers up along with the ice cream, which was disappointing as I was expecting to be asked to eat hers for her. All in all we'd had an interesting little afternoon out and it had cost us just eight euros between us. Before leaving we made a point of popping back in to thank them for their hospitality. The young lady there asked me if we had enjoyed the Peach Melba. "Wee", I said. "In fact I liked it so much, I am taking some home with me", pointing down to the two long, light pink stains down the front of my clean white shirt.
On the way back we popped in to the 'Giant' supermarket with a view to getting another half dozen cans of beer, and for moi, a bottle of rosé plonk. Sadly though the booze sections were taped off, no selling les Firewater on les Sundays.
I have to say we weren't expecting temperatures to be as high as this during our tour down south. More frustratingly I decided to 'invest' in an air-conditioning unit for the motorhome. I had no intention of buying one of the heavy expensive units which bolt on to the vehicle roof, thus increasing the vehicles height leading to a possible increase in toll road fees (over three metres) in some part of Europe. Instead I opted for a more portable unit which can be removed and stowed away between locations. What's more it uses much less power, allowing it to be used in, shall we say, more primitive less commercialised campsites you can come across.
The only problem was the company, CoolMyCamper https://www.coolmycamper.com/ had sold all of their imported units for the year and were not buying in any more until next year. However the company, renowned for its excellent customer service very sportingly gave me the contact details of a competitor in Germany. So I turned to them. Yes they could provide a unit but instead of the 24-hour delivery that CoolMyCamper would have offered, I had to wait over two weeks (as well as paying 20% import tax before I could get my hands on it).
Unfortunately it arrived too late for me to get my head around how I would fit it to the vehicle (it is in two halves and fits on brackets either side of a window), the main problem being that our vehicle, being German, with better build quality than most UK vehicles, many of which are put together with a powerful staple gun, has thicker side walls than the brackets allowed for. So we've left it behind, but at least I'll have the time to get my head around the problem over winter before we set off on our next trip. And when we sell the motorhome, I'll keep the unit as it can be used in our south-facing bedroom come more global warming summers.
So we've had a nice cheap day. Tomorrow we are off to Antibes. I know it is Her Majesty's funeral, but for me, life is for the living. I have rigged up our TV aerial on the roof and can pick it up on French TV as well as the BBC News website online, but we're not stopping in to watch it, though it will be a spectacular event.
We
may live an overcrowded, bankrupt little island, but when it comes to pomp and ceremony, especially that involving our Royal Family, nobody does it as well as we Brits. There isn't another nation on earth that even comes close. I hope young children get the
opportunity to watch it because they will see nothing like it again for years to come. It will be watched throughout the world from tax-dodging barrowboy spivs on their luxury yachts probably paid for by staff pension schemes through to little brown
chaps sat crossed legged in their mud huts in the Third World.
I still remember Winston Churchill's state funeral when the Royal Navy pulled his coffin on the gun carriage, and I'm sure it will be equally impressive tomorrow.
I've no doubt we'll catch up with the highlights after we return this afternoon. In the meantime I hope you do watch it and feel proud. Absorb and enjoy the moment, because sadly, by Tuesday
somebody will have shovelled up all the horse shit, the roads will have been re-opened, as will the food banks. Everybody will go back to worrying about how they're going to pay their bills and Albanian criminals will continue to illegally arrive on our shores
in huge numbers and it seems there's sweet F.A. any of us can do about it. Oh, and Extinction Rebellion will no doubt be out again gluing themselves to something that's going to bring misery to thousands.
So
yes Your Majesty, you're now in a better place and may God grant you eternal peace wrapped once again in the arms of the man who loved you more than any of us.
PS. Don't worry about the Ginger Whinger and his missus - we'll sort them for you.
17. Sep, 2022