Lost in France...

-
Looks like I confused all of you by foisting some ramblings on you on Thursday afternoon.  Normal service is resumed this morning.

So, Thursday night.  Having walked the equivalent of the Equator to find a restaurant for lunch earlier in the day, we decided that a taxi into the old town would be a good idea for dinner.  Depositing us in a beautiful square, our taxi driver insisted on getting out of the car and steering us towards what he felt was the best direction for two ladies of advanced years.  

Now, I'm not sure what has happened on the Cote d'Azur over the last thirty years or so, but it would seem that Nice is now the venue of choice for all Friends of Dorothy.... I'm trying to be terribly PC here, but enough to say that Miss R and I were perfectly safe wandering around the market on Thursday evening.  Having eaten at lunchtime, both of us agreed that no more food was necessary.  Fast forward our evening after two Aperols and there we were with a large plate of chips and mayonnaise, stuffing them into our faces like there were no tomorrows.

We were joined by a particularly boring couple (the only straight couple in the vicinity) called Derek and Barbara (if she'd said 'Oh girls, call me Babs,' one more time, I might have mutely screamed).

So these two, having bored the pants off each other for thirty two years, joined us after we'd polished our chips off, and regaled us about their life on the Isle of Man.  Now I initially found them quite interesting, because I thought they might be able to tell me a bit about the TT races.  But no.  Derek had just retired from a lifetime job in Benefit Fraud (on the Isle of Man?) and three weeks in, the way he was looking at Babs I could see that he was now considering a new patio.

I couldn't get to grips with what she did, as she'd drunk 'so much of that orange stuff' that she was slurring somewhat.  Obviously, they were a lot better off than Miss R and me, who had reined ourselves in with just two Aperols, not wanting to have to resort to selling a kidney before the week was out.

We finally managed to extricate ourselves and decided to take a bike rickshaw back to the hotel, rather than walking the mile and a half back.  This was a white knuckle ride, accompanied with dance music and some flashing lights and was one of the highlights of Thursday.  The lad riding it nearly tipped us both out after an altercation with a chicane, but after a quick look round to make sure that there was no damage (to the rickshaw, not to us I should point out) we were off again.

There was a close call with needing a comfort break and a couple of speed bumps, but I think the less said about that, the better...


Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

It's raining men...

-
We overslept this morning.  I'm not entirely surprised having walked the equivalent of a half marathon over the past two days, and we just about made breakfast.   We did all the usual Christmas stuff today.  Carnaby Street, Regent Street, Borough Market, mulled wine (again), chocolate covered bananas and caramelised nuts.  There was also the issue of the very inclement weather.  Wandering around the whole A to Z of London, the husband decided that a purchase of a hat and scarf was necessary.  Being a fairly sensible woman, I had brought a hat, scarf and gloves with me, but the husband, being of tougher stuff (he hails from the north) had proclaimed that he was no southern softy and would deal with whatever the weather had to throw at him in a manly fashion. Fast forward to late morning, the rain was chucking it down, and the manly fashion had morphed into wimpy whinging about a chaffed chin due to an evil coat zip and a wet head.  And so began the hut hunt. We tried sports shops (t
Read more

Diary...

-
Eight years ago, I came up with the idea of writing a diary for my children which I would put into the public domain.  And so Words from a Bird began.  Two thousand posts and almost a million words later, I am still going.  But like all of us, lives change.  Eight years ago, my life was all about the four children, schools, universities, boyfriends, girlfriends, work, my husband, family and the dogs. Much of that is still relevant today, thank goodness, but we now add in two weddings (one more pending), grandchildren (one, and again, one pending), retirement and looking after parents. So to all my completely gorgeous readers, to the ones who have been with me right from the start and to the new ones who have discovered me just this week, thank you for coming along for the ride with me.  I hope I carry on making you giggle for many years to come!   If you don't want to miss anything, just follow the Words from a Bird page. And when I am a very old lady, I hope that my children will
Read more

Ain't no mountain high enough...

-
Image
I thought you might be interested in the other stuff Mr Bird and I got up to while we were away in the Wobble Box this weekend.  The pinnacle of the weekend was the mountain climb (see what I did there?) but before this, we had anticipated a simple, peaceful and quiet few days together with the dogs.  What we hadn't expected was to be shouted at as we strolled to the pub on the first night, 'What on earth are you two doing here?' Standing outside a posh (and long) motor home, were two very good friends of ours.  Happily retired, they trolley around the world in their home on wheels, and just happened to land in Pandy a whole thirty minutes before we did on Thursday.  The funny thing is, that every time we see each other, the subject of caravans and motor homes is always raised, with promises on both sides made that we will arrange something together for a weekend.  To date, we've never managed to do this, but it finally happened by accident.  We all decided that th
Read more