I don't know what sort if tree this is but it has bombarded the roof and pitch with thousands upon thousands of tiny leaves
Harry & Meghan
When we left at 11:00
The beach when we arrived at 08:45
SUNDAY 1-6-25
We were up in good time in order that we could pay a final visit to the beach. We arrived at about 08:45 to find it lovely and quiet and a very comfortable temperature. being so early we were able to bag one of the beach umbrellas which allow me to keep out of the sun as and when I chose to.
The comfortable temperature allowed us to lay there and appreciate the moment. Tomorrow we'd be back on the road, and now possibly never returning, which is sad, but we've been here four times now, the first was in 2015 on our way back from our first visit to Istanbul as I recall. We feel it's time to do things differently. In takes nothing away from our love of Provence, but in future I think we'll fly in, hire a car and tour more inland.
Given that it was a Sunday the beach didn't fill up as quickly as we expected, but it was lovely to see young parents playing sandcastles and games with their kids. When I see things like that I have hope for the future.
After just over two hours we decided we'd had enough and would make our way back to the campsite. The Chef went via the supermarket to buy a baguette for lunch and I went straight back to wash the beach towels followed by bath towels and more bits and pieces.
A lot of folk left this morning including the Mutt & Jeff Club. those of us remaining then had the stressful wait for Reception to open again at 14:00 and the new arrivals begin looking for pitches. All of us dread the thought of having our vehicles clipped, as geriatrics in particular try and manoeuvre a vehicle much larger than they've ever driven before in their lives in to a confined space.
We've drawn a short straw and now have an Italian family with a caravan almost opposite us. As long as they don't stay up half the night jabbering I don't mind.
We had a couple arrive late yesterday insisting on a particular pitch which is almost across from us. The Chef has nicknamed them 'Harry and Meghan' because they certainly want their privacy. Most odd.
During the course of the day I've topped up the water tank as well as emptied and restocked the garage area at the back. The only thing holding me up at the moment is the beach towels which will need to be thoroughly dried before being packed away in a box along with the winter duvet.
As we've been carrying around a table cloth for one of our oblong folding tables we decided that we should eat this evening's meal al fresco, while we still can as guess it's going to start getting a bit cooler as we start making our way north tomorrow.
I've looked at the weather forecast for the next few days along our route and it looks rather unsettled, with a few thunderstorms. But whatever it is we'll cope.
So that's it. Goodbye to the Cote d' Azur. The 'Coast of Light' I think it means, that's why artists have been drawn to the area over the years including Picasso and Renoir.
Tomorrow I shall start another chapter.
SATURDAY 31-5-25
My word, we slept well last night and woke to yet another warm sunny morning with the threat of more heat as the day went on.
Today was a chores day which meant we didn't shower until the worst of it was over. Whilst The Chef clean the interior I set about washing the bedding as well as my own bits and pieces. But first I had to erect the washing line. Not always easy not having been a Boy Scout but it won't matter if the knots won't come apart when we're done as we have no further use for the line after this trip.
After scrubbing up The Chef went to the supermarket for some bits and pieces, while I did, I'm not quite sure what, but whatever it was it kept me occupied.
A number of fellow campers have departed over the past couple of days including a young American couple and their son who bought a used European motorhome near Amsterdam and are now going to store it down here, allowing them to return often and travel Europe which sounds like a very good idea to me. The Mutt & Geoff Gang across the way are still here. I feel sorry for the young girls as nobody plays with her. Maybe the rest of the family are too busy doing sign language between them to spare her a thought. I was saying to the Chef how I wondered if sign language is dependent on a language. I know there is British Sign language, and I wondered if words are signed differently for any language. I did buy an 'Idiots Guide to Sign Language' book and I really must get back to studying it. I doubt very much if there is a form of Italian sign language because they wave their hands about so much anyway nobody could read what they were saying.
I suppose the little girl across the way could be taken out for a walk by her granddad, but we have the Fire & Ambulance Station just around the corner and it would be very distressing for her if her Gramps got spread down the road because he didn't hear the twenty-ton fire truck with its sirens blaring as he stepped in to the road. Imagine laying there trying to sign 'Fuuuccck thaaat hurrrrt' in French and with two broken arms.
With the fresh bedding on the bed I've taken a couple of photographs which I can use as part of Freddy Fendt's portfolio when we come to sell him a few weeks after we return.
We're having technical issues with our portable WiFi connections. Both mine our now out of action and I need to ascertain whether it's the Huawei gizmo's, 3-Mobile SIM cards or Firefox. I've made a start by uninstalling Firefox, and we'll see what happens when I reinstall it. One way it will be sorted because it has to be, but I may just have to wait until we get home so that somebody who knows what they're doing can help me sort it out.
Tomorrow we plan to go down on the beach for a while first thing before returning to base camp for a few more chores and preparing the vehicle for the final two weeks of the trip heading north.
'Spiv' Green's 'Lionheart'
Approaching the Casino
Princess Grace
The paupers marina around the corner
The Royal Train
FRIDAY 30-5-25
We were awake early this morning and The Chef fancied her chances down at the shower block intending to beat the queue. Only a few minutes had passed before returned as the staff were cleaning and so it was no entry.
Today was to be a final, believe me, the final, visit to Monaco. It was forecast to be a very hot day, and they weren't wrong. Having endured the buses on our past three trips out to Nice, Cannes and Antibes, today was to be the turn of the train.
We travelled light to avoid my having to carry a backpack around, but we travelled too light because I didn't bring my sunscreen or hat with me. I like my hat, it makes me look like a WWII Japanese sniper with the flap that hangs down the back of the hat should I decide to use it.
It's a long way to the railway station from the campsite and in the heat we could have done without the walk. The last time we made the journey the Ticket Office was open and we were able to buy our tickets in the normal, civilised fashion. But today we were reliant on the ticket machine. Oh dear lord, what a faff. You have to navigate the options using a wheel within a wheel. The inner wheel is the confirmation button to press, and the outer ring moves clockwise and anticlockwise to choose the options. But of course you need to know that before you start. Luckily there was nobody behind us to start with and so we could take our time. We got close, right up to the point of payment and then it all went wrong. Fortunately by then a charming young chap sanding behind us offered to help and in no time we had a return ticket for two passengers for €37.60.
We didn't have to wait too long before our air conditioned comfortable train arrived. My word these French can teach us a thing or two about good public transport.
On our arrival at Monaco we made our way around the Grand Marina, past the Grand Prix starting grid and on up towards the Palace, which is a bit of a hike up many steps, although to be fair, instead of crossing the road and taking the steep steps we could have turned left and gone the long way up a path to the top of the hill, but we always seem to do things the hard way.
On our arrival there was a large crowd gathering for the 'Changing of the Guard'. Buckingham Palace it ain't, but the tourists seem to like it none the less. Traffic was being held up and tourists prevented from crossing the road and all manner of control before a 'Royal' car and police motorbike escort left the palace and away. We didn't see who was in it, but then it doesn't really matter. It could have been the tubby, balding, womanising Prince off for a bit of nookie, or his nutty wife, off down the pharmacy for her medication. This poor woman went AWOL the night before her wedding before being found and persuaded to return. I do wonder if she wishes she'd just followed her instincts and just kept running.
Some little while later the 'Changing of the Guard' began, but from where we were standing we could see nothing, and we didn't really need to because we'd seen it before on our last visit from a better vantage point.
So we left and made our way to the Cathedral as The Chef fancied one last look at the final resting place of Princess Grace lying next to her husband Prince Rainer. But it was most odd. In the past it has been very obvious where their tombs were as part of a semi-circle of tombs at the back of the Cathedral, but we just couldn't work it out this time. She didn't seem to be there. We'll have to Google things and find out what's going on.
After that it was back down the hill which offered a good view of Grand Harbour and the super yachts within it, including 'Lionheart' the boat owned by that tax-dodging spiv Philip Green, the former owner of Debenhams among other chains in the rag trade. I won't give him his title of 'Sir' because he doesn't warrant it.
We were making for lunch, not just any lunch, but a Monaco lunch. Our fine dining experience was purchased from the very busy Carrefour supermarket a stone's throw from the waterfront. Having splashed out nearly eleven Euros including the price of the carrier bag to put it in, we wandered down the road and sat in the small, yet-to-be-taken-down grandstand near the start line. There we savoured our sandwiches and drinks whilst watching the world go by, and lots of flashy, fancy cars.
There was just one more place we fancied visiting and that was the Casino. My word, in the heat of the day the walk up the steep hill on the other side of the Marina was hard work, and there was just no shade (displays were telling us it was 32°C - and we believed them).
Finally, after some rather confusing signage, having walked through a pleasant, small park, we were approaching the front of the Casino. Just then two people appeared coming towards us and it was David Coulthard the former racing driver who is a resident of Monaco, and a female friend. They parted company just in front of us. I always respect people's privacy and would never dream of rushing up and asking for a selfie. I think it's just so rude of people to ask.
The last time we were here we couldn't look inside the Casino (well the foyer anyway) because I wasn't wearing a tie. But a lot has changed since then and now they'll let you in after a cursory body check wearing a T shirt. There wasn't much in there, although there was a racing car, and the interior design was very nice.
That was it, we'd had enough and made our way back to the station. We didn't have too long to wait, but we weren't too bothered because the station is underground and nice and cool, and we'd bagged a seat.
The journey back was very pleasant and gave us a chance to relax and cool down - well almost. While we were stopped at Cagnes-sur-Mer station there was an announcement over the tannoy which we didn't understand, and a very long message on the scrolling passenger information display which gives details of the next station etc. In fact the message was so long, and moved so quickly we didn't have a chance to pick out any words we might understand, and I thought it might be a suicide message from the train driver telling us his life story and how he was depressed and intended to crash the train in to the buffers at the end of the line in Cannes.
What they were telling us was that the train would not be stopping at the next stop, our stop, of Villenueve-Loubet. Instead they kindly took us further down the line to Boix. We thought we'd nip out of the station and try and get a 620 bus back down the road but couldn't find the bus stop. In the end we decided to catch a train back towards Villenueve-Loubet and hoped it stopped there, and if it didn't we get off at Cagnes-sur-Mer and walk back. Which is exactly what we ended up doing.
The first thing we did when we got back was to wind out the awning, put a cotton sheet up as a sunscreen and collapse in a big heap outside with a nice cold beer.
The Chef observed that whilst we've been here we've used public transport on four occasions and only one was a good experience. That for my money isn't good enough.
THURSDAY 29-5-25
It was a nice quiet night. Even the phantom water filler didn't appear. For days now somebody, and I have no idea who, has taken it upon themselves to draw about three buckets or watering cans-full of water from the nearby tap at believe it or not 05:15 in the morning. Same time of day every time. Who in the world would need to draw off water in the middle of the night? Only the phantom water filler would know. Strange beings today's modern campers.
We awoke at a reasonable time and without too much faffing about headed for the beach. The thinking was to bag a decent space with shade from a fixed umbrella or one of the spindly little trees on the beach.
Success, we managed to get ourselves a spindly tree and all by 09:30. It was important that we made the effort this morning because today is some kind of French holiday. Not a full blown tools-down national holiday, but more a holiday for those who really aren't important enough to be required in the office etc.
It was glorious, warm enough to enjoy but not too hot to get fried. And believe me, in the past I've been good and proper fried, and am therefore quite cautious what I expose my skin to.
I took a picture soon after we arrived and I felt that would do me. There are only so many pictures you can take of some sand and water.
As time went by it was getting busier and busier and it was mainly young families, which delighted me no end. I say to The Chef, when I see young mums and dads playing with their kids with buckets an d spades doing normal seaside stuff I have hope for the future.
After a couple of hours it was beginning to feel a bit warm, even with lashings of sun screen on, and so we made our way back. As we walked away from our place on the beach I gestured to a young family who had just arrived to grab it quick which they did in a very appreciative manner. As we stepped off the beach we looked back to see that family clearly knew the family we had been next to and soon they were all embracing. So it was a good result all round.
On the way back my darling Chef went to the supermarket for a baguette for lunch and I made my way back 'home' to do a few bits and pieces.
As I mentioned yesterday we had a, or some, deaf people move on to the pitch opposite. Certainly the older male driver is Mutt & Geoff but we think the two females can hear. With them is a young girl, probably only about six or seven (I'm not good at guessing ladies ages. During my career in the Ambulance Service I had numerous old ladies inviting me to guess their age. I knew what they were looking for and so always guessed really high - that shut them up).
The kid was having to amuse herself kicking a ball about as well as bouncing it. Jesus, that can become annoying. But by this morning I felt sorry for her. Just as back down on the beach, parents with just one child were leaving them to their own devices whilst they lay in the sun frying like beached whales.
Parents of just one child - take responsibility. If your child doesn't have a little playmate on holiday then become their playmate. Enjoy building sand castles or playing ball games (though not near me you little bastards), don't just leave them to keep themselves amused. When my girls were young I so enjoyed our annual two week holiday, usually in Cornwall, because the NHS money was rubbish and I worked lots of overtime to either have some kind of holiday or a half decent Christmas. I so enjoyed that two week connection with them building sand castles and putting little paper flags in them etc.
It's been a really hot day and my little gizmo which tells me temperature and humidity has been telling me the air is dry (42%) and damned hot at 33°C). Even allowing a bit of discrepancy for the China factor I don't think it's far out. So much so that today for the first time on the trip I have deployed one of the two cheapo Amazon cotton sheets and chunky clips attached to the wound-out awning.
Tomorrow we will visit Monaco using the train. We've had about enough of the pleasures of rancid sweaty armpits on the buses. We know it's not going to be anything special. We've been a number of times before and for, I believe, the past two occasions we've visited when the roadies are dismantling the Grand Prix track and putting it in to storage. But hey hoe it's a trip out.
No prints yet for Shaun the Sheep.
WEDNESDAY 28-5-25
I had a rough night and spent a number of hours awake which makes for a long night.
Today we were to visit Cannes, home of the Cannes Film Festival which ended last Friday. We're not wild about the place but it was a trip out. We didn't plan to be out too long, intending to spend the rest of the day relaxing on our pitch.
It was going to be a hot day as it was already very warm as we made our way up the hill to the bus stops. Oh joy of joy, these buses don't seem to run as frequently as they used to and when a 620 turned up, it drove straight by, despite a young lady clearly flagging it down. There was no excuse as it was nearly empty. So we waited a whole lot longer before we managed to get on to a bus that was actually prepared to stop.
A couple of stops down an elderly gentleman who appeared to be of Oriental descent and who had clearly had a stroke given the lack of use in his left side, got onboard (more of him later). The journey was slow after we reached Antibes as there was just so much traffic. By now The Chef had bagged a seat near the front of the bus and eventually I got one about midway. I was going to go and join her when the seat next to her became available, but she was facing backwards, and given a choice I'd rather not travel backwards. It was at about this point two men joined the bus. One sounded English and the other was a man of colour and aged about forty. He looked like Sammy Davis Jnr's much younger, taller bother, and he sounded American.
This man was so full of sh*t going on and on and on about filmmaking, contracts, deals, bitching about other people in the industry and just generally being annoying. He barely paused for breath for most of the journey and of course, talking loudly. It wasn't long before I joined The Chef to say that I'd much prefer to make the return trip by train because the bus journey was taking so long. At this point Sammy's brother was next to me across the aisle. Personally if I'm in a foreign country and can't speak the native language I keep my voice low and keep my chat to a minimum because I know how irritating it can be for locals to have to listen to a foreign language being spoken too much.
I had already made my mind up that at the end of the trip I was going to say to Sammy's brother "On behalf of my fellow passengers and I may I say how pleased we are that you didn't get on the bus at Nice". But things developed because after my having tolerated him for too long he started to Eff and Jeff. That was it - he got a firm hand on his shoulder and I told him that it was bad enough we all had to listen to his chatter but we're not going to listen to the profanities. He apologised then said he was having a private conversation with his friend, which wasn't private of course because we were all having to listen to it. I just told him to be quite as I didn't want to hear his voice again. That was pretty much it really, although he did object to my touching him. Our seats were near the front of the bus facing backwards, so he had an audience. The onject of the excercise was not to cause him physical harm but to embarrase him in front of all the people he was trying to impress, and I think that was achieved. He was so up his own ar*e he couldn't see that if he was a successful film maker he's be sat in the back of an air conditioned car and not riding a hot crowded bus having paid two Euros fifty for the fare. Nor would he feel the need to justify his sad little existence by non-stop blabber. I bet Steven Spielberg doesn't talk loudly and continually when he gets on a bus.
It was a journey of about one and a half hours, and much longer that it should have taken.
We just wandered around Cannes and I took a few pictures. Some people like it, but we can take it or leave it.
Eventually we found somewhere a block back from the seafront where we had a light lunch before wandering back to the bus station which is right outside the railway station. These French really do have things organised.
I'm not sure how long we waited for a 620 to come in, and when it did the driver of the electric bus hooked it up for a charge and walked away. We eventually boarded and got our ticket at 14:36 (it said so on the ticket). We ended up sitting in the exact same seats we'd sat in coming and sat opposite me was the Oriental gentleman who recognised me immediately and gestured towards the seat where Sammy's brother had sat and was saying something. I didn't understand a word of it but smiled when he'd finished I think he'd approved of my 'Stop Sammy's Brother' action. I think I made a friend today.
The last time we were here we were held up badly in the traffic on the way back from Antibes at about the same time of day. We did fine until we were on the outskirts of Villenueve-Loubet where we hit the traffic jam. We crawled at a snail's pace. I was mildly amused when at one point we sat in one spot for about fifteen minutes. Then we moved forward about twenty feet and we came to a halt again - we had arrived at a bus stop and the driver could now officially open the doors and let those onboard who had been standing waiting, get off, whilst at the front end the passengers who had to continue standing outside in the heat with the bus only twenty feet away could now get on and sit down.
We eventually arrived at the bus stop for Villenueve-Loubet railways station. It had taken exactly two and a half hours to reach that point. We were still three stops from where we needed to be but decided to get off and walk the rest of the way via the marina complex.
This gave me the opportunity to pop in to the pharmacy next door to the supermarket where I was able to buy some more 'Rennie' indigestion tablets. I slipped up having not replaced a packet we had onboard after the last trip and which I'd 'borrowed'. It took quite a while to be served as I was queuing behind the sick and dying who were cashing in their prescriptions.
Finally we popped in to the supermarket for a few cans of beer and a bottle of wine.
We sure as hell won't be repeating today's journey ever again, but every cloud has a silver lining and when we arrived back at the campsite we had a new neighbour opposite us who were using sign language between themselves, something I'd never seen used before whilst camping.
Hopefully we should have a quiet evening.
I'm going to try and forget that we were out in the heat for about seven hours and achieved vertually nothing.
Is this vehicle refuelled by a man with Parkinsons Disease or has Shakin Stevens got a motorhome?
TUESDAY 27-5-25
It was lovely to have a nice peaceful evening on the campsite yesterday. No noisy, grizzling young children and no gobby Frogs. They've all gone home. It's just a campsite of adults behaving like adults. Among those who left were a number of German campers. This has resulted in our being able to enjoy the past couple of evenings without having to smell boiling cabbage in the air come evening meal time. I have no idea what Germans consider to be fine dining.
What I did notice yesterday evening was the Receptionist who I moaned to about the noisy Frogs at the weekend and his indifference to me plight. There he was, mincing past our pitch on his way to the swimming pool complex, presumably to lock up, carrying one of those little handbag-sized fluffy dogs. Clearly his sympathies lay with the members of the Bum & Barbie Camping Club of France.
This morning I had a few chores to do, and while I got on with them my darling Chef wandered down to the supermarket. One of my jobs was to try and repair the toilet cassette which somehow has been damaged. I originally thought it was the gizmo on top of the cassette which allowed the blade on top to open and shut when it's in place under the loo, but on closer inspection it was half of the other gizmo which is a vale to equalise the pressure in the cassette with the surrounding outside pressure. This is pretty important when moving to an area with lower atmospheric pressure, like up a mountain. I did try to repair it but without success, there just wasn't enough plastic remaining for epoxy resin to adhere to and give strength. Never mind, as long as the loo keeps functioning we'll be fine. The cassette was going to be replaced anyway. We can buy a kit which contains a cassette and a new toilet seat and lid. We bought one when we purchased the vehicle and have replaced it all since. But as we're selling Freddie Fendt we were going to replace it all again anyway. There's nothing like having your own loo. In the meantime I must remind myself that if we go up in to the mountains I must stand well back when I open the cassette under the pedestal otherwise we'll get a fountain of contents spring up from below. I know, because it happened once before.
We had decided to go down to the beach this afternoon. As it was we left much later than we had planned. This was because it was so very hot under a clear blue sky, and I fry very easily. So we left it until the worst was over and we made our way to the sandy section of beach. It's a shame that so many beaches are just full of pebbles and stone. It would be like taking a holiday in a stone quarry, which would be cheaper.
Typically of course the cloud cover increased and we became bored after an hour or so there, but we're treating it as a dummy run.
We've decided to go back down there early on Thursday, the French public holiday. From what the young lady said in the Tourist Information Office it looks as if the day is rather like a Sunday, that is to say, people with unimportant jobs such as in government and offices get the day off, while important people have to go in to work. It's rather like the pandemic really. All the Civil Servants and other office dwellers got to 'work' from home whilst the truly important people in our society like supermarket workers particularly, binmen and NHS staff had to carry on as usual with little or no support. Now here we are, five years later and we still can't get the idle, useless, overstaffed and overpaid Civil Service back to work.
We've decided that we'll go back to the beach early on Thursday, that public holiday, and bag a space before it gets too busy. That way we may be able to get a spot with some shade, and as it gets busier and hotter, we can just up sticks and come back to the campsite.
Tomorrow we're going to visit Cannes. Neither of us are wild about the place but it's a trip out. We could have gone last week when the Cannes Film Festival was on, but I find continually being asked for autographs and selfies so boring, don't you darlinks?
MONDAY 26-5-25
The gobby Frogs returned early evening from I believe, Monaco and pretty much went straight to bed. Mind you they did leave quite early yesterday morning. So these inconsiderate Neanderthals expected the rest of us to be quite so that they could get the sleep they needed.
We were up by eight this morning and straight to the shower block where to our surprise we found it almost empty. Today we were heading to Nice for a visit, somewhere we've been a few times before.
Our journey was to be slightly different as we were picking up the service 622 from behind the campsite which saved us the long haul up the hill to the main road which runs along the coast. The young lady in the Tourist Information Office had put us right about the right ticket to ask for, which is the one that includes both the bus and the tram journey at the other end. When The Chef paid it was just the regular five Euros for the two of us. The bus journey took us along the coastal road until we got nearer to the airport where the journey ended and we swapped to a tram to take us the rest of the way. There was a time when we could just hop on a bus here and be taken right in to Nice, but now things have been 'improved' and it's rather tricky to make the journey. Just to make matters even more confusing the tram goes underground for quite a while so finding the stations or tracks can be challenging. We were aided this time by a map of the system supplied by Tourist Information which helped make sense of things.
It was just as well we had the right tickets and had validated them once we boarded the tram because just a few stops down a ticket inspection team got on and checked everybody. Not only did they want to see our tickets but also the receipt to show we'd paid. In the short time they were onboard they caught two tourists with no ticket just in our section. They had to pay for a ticket and then had their passports photographed, so I'm guessing they'll be receiving a nasty fine in the post armed with that information. We don't carry our passports although we're supposed to, but after today we'll be carrying colour scanned images of both passports.
Nice doesn't change much, it's all very nice, but also very busy. It must be a nightmare here in July and August. The thing we did notice was that it was crawling with Americans. They were mainly travelling independently with the 'Follow My Leader' tour groups being French oddly enough.
We were in no hurry, we've been a few times before and so sauntered to the market area where collectables and bric-a-brac was being sold. If you were a collector of such things then you could spend ages looking around all of the stalls. In the past these stalls were cleared and turned in to outside dining for the restaurants running down the sides of the market but that doesn't happen now, well not at lunchtime anyway.
Then it was a walk round to the old marina and port where we thought we'd have a sit down lunch. When we got round there and looked at the menus nothing took our fancy and certainly not for the prices they were charging. In the end we settled for a take away pizzas and sat under the shade of a tree and ate it. I was so pleased I took my backpack again as it gave us access to hand sanitiser, wet wipes and tissues, as our hands ended up a bit messy. We then debated whether or not to get a drink which in the end we didn't bother with. We were hot and bothered and had had enough. The tram terminus was just across the road and so over we went to start making our way back.
Now logically you'd think that if we could get tickets for both bus and tram from the bus driver for a total of five Euros then we should be able to get the same out of the tram ticket machine for the return journey, but oh no.
To get a tram ticket we had two options. Firstly we could pay to top up a Tramcard which we didn't have, or we could pay for single fares of €1.70 each plus the purchase of a card to put the fare on, so a total of €3.70 each for the two singles. The tram dropped us by the airport and Nice Railway station which logically is very close to the bus station from where we caught to the bus back to Villeneuve-Loubet. So we both travelled in to Nice on bus and tram for a total of five Euros, but our return cost us €12.40. All we're left with are two Tramcards which have no credit on them, and never will have if we never return.
We'd been out for a total of six hours in the hot sun and that was enough. The only highlight if the day has been that the Gobby Frogs have gone. Maybe now we'll get a peaceful evening.