French Escape

  What could beat a mid week break in Genoa that included fabulous food, an interesting exhibition and my first experience of the opera? Five of us took the train from Ventimiglia to Genoa—just over two hours away, it feels a world away from Menton.  It is definitely a city of contrasts. Its glorious past is demonstrated by extravagant buildings on wide thoroughfares but extensive graffiti suggests a less affluent present.  In the old town, which spreads up from the port, tall oppressive buildings border dark narrow streets until you turn a corner into a bright expansive square or look up an alleyway towards a magnificent church. Off the tourist trail it is a very friendly welcoming city, everyone seemed to be smiling. Perhaps the sunshine was an influence there... Our hotel was very well placed for the Berthe Morisot exhibition in the Doge's Apartment of the Palazzo Ducale. I have to admit that I had to research Berthe Morisot before I went, as my only experience of her...

January is a month to be got through (then of course there's February...). The weather isn’t always wonderful even in Menton. It is never below zero and rain is welcomed but it can be dull, wet and chilly in a very English way. But one thing you can be you can be sure of is that the rain will be followed by sunshine, something that is not so likely in England.  The morning I wrote these words, I opened the shutters to the glorious sunrise in the photo! There is promise in other ways too, it won't be too long before the mimosa is out. And of course here in Menton as soon as Father Christmas has left and the Christmas decorations have been packed away, the preparations for the Lemon Festival begin... This month I have been writing but I can’t say I’ve really got into my stride yet. I keep sidetracking myself. You would think that with the darker evenings and weather that doesn't tempt you outside,  I would be forging ahead with my next novel but as ever, just because I can, i...

 Happy New Year from Menton. I don’t know about you but I’ve never quite got the point of celebrating New Year.  The 1st of January 2025 is not really that different from 31st December 2024, nothing changes except those last digits. I remember many years, when I was working, getting the year wrong for several days before I got the hang of it—sick notes, prescriptions, cheques would be returned to be altered and initialled... That was of course before computers did everything and told you what day it was.  Don’t get me wrong, over the years I’ve been to some fabulous parties—counting down to midnight, dancing the night away but now I’m happy to let others mark the occasion for me.  This New Year’s Eve I went to a very civilised drinks party which ended before nine, allowing me to go back to my apartment watch a bit of nonsense on Netflix and be in bed by half past ten.  I heard the firework display and it sounded magnificently lavish but not impressive enough to ...

  It’s a difficult balance. I love where I live in Menton (as you may have guessed if you’ve read the blog before) but I realise the things I miss every time I return  to England.  I miss Book group, John Lewis and garden centres that sell all sorts of nonsense as well as plants. A drink in a pub.  Mature cheddar cheese. Bare trees, green fields, fog that turns the world into a black and white film. Englishness… even  the hard-done-by moaning overheard on the train, and especially the crazy run up to Christmas. With short visits I never quite feel settled. It’s hard having to make complicated arrangements to meet up with family and friends, I don’t want to always be rushing from place to place and person to person, knowing that I can’t fit everyone in.   I am a tourist, viewing the country through different eyes, treating myself and having far too many meals out (although is there such a thing as too many...?)  A visit to look around the London shops w...