French Escape

Wednesday was the appointed day for the man from Orange to connect me to the internet.   Our neighbour, Thérèse is a very kind lady in her eighties, who with her husband, Claude, sees everything from their eerie on the fourth floor. Thérèse shouts instructions from the balcony and sends Claude down when necessary. After watching me walk, many times, down to the entrance and point the remote at the gate to let deliveries in, Thérèse instructed Claude to add our names to the control on the entrance gate and link it to my French mobile. (Claude also sorted our malfunctioning lock, no locksmith was necessary. We had told him about it on Sunday evening, while sharing a bottle of wine with them and admiring the stunning views from their balcony. Thérèse's English is very good, Claude speaks only French—one way or another we managed to convey what we wanted to say to each other. When we left, Claude was sent down with us to sort the lock. He quickly realised what the problem was and solve

I can't believe how fortunate I am! I open the shutters of the apartment and am treated to blue sky and a view of the old port.  Last Wednesday, the meeting with the notaire was held in an office in Monaco that had more artwork than Tate Modern and furniture and fittings that showed where all the fees went. When the forms had been signed and the apartment formally purchased, a tatty, slightly grubby plastic bag of keys was passed across the desk. The lovely lady selling the apartment, told me, in Italian, what all the different keys were for, until she came across two about which she had no idea.  Back in Menton, Nicolas, our estate agent, helped us to set up electricity and gas contracts. The bank couldnt offer an appointment, to open an account, until the following week, so instead, we went to the Orange shop to set up an Internet contract.  All I needed was proof of a utility bill and my passport. The electricity account that I had logged into ten minutes before refused to let

It's been an odd few days. We are staying in Le Cannet just above Cannes. The hotel is very basic but is within a couple of hundred yards of Rue Saint Sauveur.  An area that for some reason we hadn't found on previous visits. There are  lovely little shops, a wonderful view across Cannes and  great restaurants serving superb food. I was even tempted by the escargots in persillade, delicious.   Our limited supply of clothes necessitated another trip to the laundrette.    According to the internet, the nearest one to the hotel was just across the road, but judging by the breeze blocks that filled the shop front, it had been closed for a while. We found one not too far away and   managed to park. It wasn't the cleanest laundrette that I have visited and the two other occupants were settled in for the day, with their drinks and cardboard tray of noodles taking up the surface where I might wanted to fold the washing. Nothing daunted I set the laundry to wash and we went out to

  Completion on the sale of the Cambridge house happened on the 3rd July—a line finally drawn under what has not been an easy process. Finally, we are in position to purchase the apartment in Menton, but we still have to wait, because the first available appointment with the notaire is not until 12th July. That is three days before all our wordly belongings are due to arrive from England.   When the removal company was booked, that date seemed much too far ahead but in the end we were getting towards the possibility of the furniture arriving and no apartment to put it in.   Fortunately, very slowly, everything is falling into place. Chalet des Rosiers A meeting with the estate agent and current owner, at the apartment, reminded me why we had gone through all the palaver of selling the house in Cambridge.  The apartment felt as welcoming as ever and the garden was as wonderful as I remembered it. Meters were read, details explained although some may have been lost in translation.  The c