Easter Monday / Nice

Whilst it rains back home, here the sun shines brightly till 7.30 pm.

On a Monday the fruit and flower market of the Cours Saleya is replaced by a broccante, a flea market. Personally, having to stroll through a crowded flea market is my idea of hell, but as my guest enjoys it so much so that I resolved to grin and bear it. I cannot understand the enjoyment of perusing tat but my dear mother liked nothing better, often in the company of my guest.

Two-thirds of the way through it, my friend suggested a libation. Typicall,y the first place though almost entirely empty and at the hour that was too late for breakfast and too early for lunch, insisted we had to eat so we moved on.

This Gallic unhelpfulness and lack of commercial sense reached its nadir at La Petite Maison last Saturday where I reserved a table for the second session at 9.30pm. At 9.30pm we were obliged to queue up for 30 minutes with no indication as to when our table might be available. We went from the small house to the big balcony – Le Grand Balcon – where a table was immediately found.

Today we found our place in the sun in our normal hostelry of choice Ponchettes and one Campari  and orange followed another.

More white and red wine arrived on the terrace which, together with the fresh asparagus, vegetables, cheese and fruit from the market induced a most delight siesta.

I’m pleased to report that I could think of little more enjoyable, especially when it was combined with this most attractive view over Nice.