In preparation for our trip to Monte Carlo today we box clever with the room service breakfast and make sure we order ham and more bread so we can make up our sarnies again! A five minute walk to the main bus station in the town centre and a few minutes later we’re on a bus heading for Monaco. For a 45 minute journey we can’t quite believe it only costs 1 euro each: in fact it’s 1 euro for whatever distance so we could have stayed on to Menton, another 45 minutes away, to see the lemon festival but the boys are adamant that they’ve had quite enough of parades and festival stuff and would rather see sports cars and yachts, so I’m out-voted.
Feeling very cold today because the sun isn’t shining so Monte Carlo doesn’t grab me. We wander down to the harbour to look at the boats and amongst the big whoppers there are some real cruddy ones. Sit like a real sad family on the wall eating our pack-up, picking out our favourite yachts and looking at some hideous apartment blocks that surround the harbour: huge 1960s monstrosities that just look so out of place (discover when we get home there’s a nicer marina just around the bay, but we never got that far!).
The casino opens at 2pm so we sit outside the Cafe de Paris, supping a fairly expensive espresso, to watch the cars arriving. Admittedly there are one or two ferraris and a lamborghini but there are plenty of scruffy old bangers from which people clamber out, handing their keys to the drivers who whisk the cars away. I expect it all looks more thrilling in the sunshine or in the evening when people are all dressed up. As it is, it all looks a bit tawdry and I’m so cold we decide to get the bus back, not before I get splattered with bird droppings. My mum always said that was a sign of good luck and money but I’m not heading back to the casino to try my hand at the tables whilst covered in guano!
Back in Nice we find a lovely restaurant for dinner then leave Rory in the room while we have a nightcap in the hotel bar. It doesn’t last long as son soon sends a text saying “Come back, I’m bored!”. There’s only so many foreign quiz shows he can watch apparently.
The final day of the holiday is very relaxing but it’s soon time to get the train back to Lille. At the station in Antibes a sweet old lady gets on carrying yet another little dog in a bag. Dog waves goodbye through the window to old lady’s husband and all three of them look very tearful, which sets me off snivelling. Then the little pooch makes no sound at all apart from a little snoring for the whole seven hours to Lille. Bless….