Grasse

To try to avoid the worst of the heat (forecast of mid-thirties), we set off early to catch the bus to Cannes and then the train to Grasse, known as the perfume capital of the world. We walked from the station up to the historic centre, regretting that the Funicular closed in 1938. The walk involved a lot of steps, but with the reward of fabulous views of the mountains and back to the coast. We also discovered that it's the city of pink umbrellas. Every ancient street was roofed with them, casting crisp and distinctive shadows. It's an incredibly photogenic place and the posted photo was chosen randomly as one of a number of favourites.

We left at midday to reverse our journey and have a light lunch before, after much procrastination, I went off on the bike again, this time heading north into the hills over the Col du Tanneron and then on to the village of the same name, where I'd been informed by the bike shop that there'd be somewhere to grab a drink. There was nothing there at all, not even a sign that there had ever been any such thing there. By then I'd drunk all my water and it was a slow climb back out of the village before I was able to enjoy a long and fast descent back to the sea, even catching a bit of breeze.

On the return climb I had the welcome excuse to stop and regularly check on the cricket score back home. I had an extended stop at one point, following ball by ball as Forrest neared another century, his third of the season in ten innings, with three fifties. He's in the form of his life. For the record: Ben Rhydding 243-4 (Forrest 121*), Pannal 201-9 (Roam 3-63, Forrest 2-16) ... Scorecard

And then it was off to the big party and great fun was had by all. I probably shouldn't have rehydrated with mostly alcohol!

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