We spent the past week in Antibes, in the splendid company of mum, dad, Juliet, Mel and Matisse, the newest addition to the Powys/Du Pontet clan. Having settled in on Rue Fourmillière we sought out beaches ever further afield, starting at La Gravette and La Salis, venturing around the Cap and eventually heading to Theoule in a rental car and the Ile Ste. Marguerite via catamaran for a bob in the astonishingly blue waters.
Elsewhere we checked in with Matisse and co. in Vallauris, staged an impromptu tour around the (mostly boarded-up) CIV and Valbonne, went to Noah's for a box of wine or three, and wrapped things up with a wine tasting in the vieille ville. Then on Saturday we packed everything up and hit the road, eventually arriving in Cambridge at 2:30am after an arduous trial by Ryanair.
On Sunday we went to Isleham to see the grandparents, strategically re-pack and collapse for most of the afternoon, then on Monday we got on another delayed flight to Edinburgh, for a quick dash around the centre in the dark and rain, and an excellent one-man show by a Brighton acquaintance laying bare a shady conspiracy theory around Santa Claus. Who knows what today will bring?
My phrase of the week means "a scalded cat is afraid of cold water", a sort of "fool me once..." maxim which is relevant both because we've seen a lot of cats lately, and because of how paranoid we are of getting our bags stolen on public transport again as we make our way around.
Speak soon,
Fredinburgh
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