Memories

As I sit here trying to encourage Liz to think of a suitable title, she and I are in hysterics as we attempt to sing songs with thunder and lightening in them.

We're staying west of Cannes in Liz's friend's apartment. Having watched the largest of black clouds and heard serious rumbles of thunder while walking out for dinner, we sat down in not the most sensible of seats to eat.

The heavens opened, bread became pulp and we retreated indoors. Dinner was great once the chef came back indoors. (He was sent out to eradicate water from the collapsing canopies and table umbrellas.)

It's now dry and we're sitting on the 7th floor balcony watching lightening flashing all around with a little glass of wine and cake on our weight gaining mission.

Singing and looking over at Cannes suddenly reminded me of a childhood trip here and seeing boats with giant scoops that swept up floating poops and toilet paper the poor sewage systems were spitting out. I can now trace my toilet humour back to my dad who, up to his waste in sea water and pretending to ballet dance, sang a rendition of Tiptoe Through The Tulips, altering the final word to something far more amusing as the boats did their job in the sea behind him! (I do realise you had to be there!)

An eventful and entertaining start to our trip.