Thursday, 14 April 2011


Mellow evening.  Lying on the sofa listening to soft jazz, reviewing the past 20 months, before I start packing up tomorrow.  But that's what wine is for, right?

What I'm looking forward to in London: a good Indian meal; fish and chips; English newspapers costing less than a month's rent; people you don't know smiling at you and having a chat; waking up to BBC Radio 4 news; seeing my son and my UK friends more frequently; men taller than my stuffed dog. 

What I wish I could take with me from Nice: my friends; the weather (when it's good - been through a couple of harsh winters here); my hairdresser; the stunning scenery; and...erm...

It's hard to say goodbye to things, even if you want to say goodbye to them.  I will miss Nice, although my experiences here have been, at best, mixed.  I'm imagining looking out of my window in north London on a rainy day, dreaming of sitting on a Baie des Anges beach, catching a few rays, listening to the Mediterranean swish onto the pebbles, caressing the ankles of those who don't mind getting their ankles caressed by the swishing Mediterranean; eyes moist, wondering why I gave it all up.

But practicalities must prevail.  Life for me on the Cote D'Azur is not sustainable. It's time to move on. And at least bits of me are tanned...(the Portuguese bits; the Russian bits are still Brilliant White. Snow goggles advisable).

So the next few days will be filled with practicalities - packing up, arranging couriers - and visiting favourite haunts and seeing friends, along with thinking about what being here has meant. Pondering how it's changed me.  

All part of the process.

And gradually Nice Etoile morphs into Not Nice Etoile...


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Please be nice, but not funnier than me. Thanks.