French Escape

I arrived back from France expecting to feel different, to be different, but it was as if I’ve never been away.  The drive across France took us to Aix-on -Provence—where we sat in the warm sunshine eating lunch, drinking beer. We watched the market being cleared away to be replaced by a tide of people, marching peacefully in protest against the proposed rise in the retirement age from 62 years to 64.  Then, the next day, to Macon where everything was closed—it being Sunday. We found a rooftop bar that served drinks and food but had no view— the town was enveloped in the thick fog that had hidden the countryside since Lyon, .  Snail vol au vents                                 We took a detour to Moussy, to buy some champagne, as only two bottles remained of the supply we had bought on the way down. I left to signed copy of Rude Awakening for Florence, who sold us the champagne. I hope she enjoys reading my books, as much as we enjoy drinking the champagne.   After a brief lunch stop i

  We left Menton an hour before the start of Fête des Citrons. The town was beginning to get very busy, with visitors pouring into the town, queues to enter extending onto the autoroute.  All around the town, there were l emon and orange decorations, an absolute citrus burst of colour. An amazing spectacle to be experienced fully—another year.                              My last week has been a week of reflection and hard work, with more than a touch of sadness that my adventure has come to an end. I have to keep telling myself that it’s just the end of a chapter, the next one will begin soon.  At the start of the week, the weather was very windy, and cold. The sea,  all churned up,  lost its holiday brochure blue. Only the very hardy sat outside for morning coffee.  Then, Wednesday, as suddenly as it had come, the wind dropped and all was calm again.  The week has gone too quickly with many hours taken up with editing Journey’s End and, in between, just absorbing Menton.  We took a

  Menton is in a frenzy of preparation for the Fête de Citron, grandstand seats have been set up along the route of the procession , massive metal sculptures are being painstakingly covered with oranges, lemons, grapefruits by numerous workers, perched on scaffold.   The downside to all this is road closures, increased traffic and just a little chaos.   Never mind, life goes on.  I leave the day the festival starts. It has struck me that the day I leave, Menton starts two weeks of festivities—I can assure you that the two events are unrelated. To my great relief, the manuscript, for  Journey’s End arrived back from the editor on Friday evening. It had been delayed by illness and Christmas holidays and I was beginning to worry that I wouldn't have time to go through it, before the end of my stay in France.  I have begun the painstaking work of working through it again, making the suggested corrections, thinking about proposed areas for change and putting right obvious mistakes.