Over recent years nothing excites me more travel-wise than to return to Nice in spring.
At Plato’s Republic and the flop houses anything and everything was permitted and happened until AIDS wiped out promiscuity.
I found the grime, crime and the overbearing immigration interrogation at the airport unattractive and it was in 1993 that I last visited the ‘Big Apple’.
European cities with their traditions and culture were more appealing but none gave me that heady sense of excitement as I crossed the RFK/Triborough bridge and saw the Manhattan skyline.
Yet it is a fine harbour city in its own right.
A city with breathtaking views over the Baie Des Anges, 1200 restaurants, an Opera House, a top football team, a charming if touristy old town with a vibrant market at its epicentre.
Instead he opted for the quicker expressway which takes you by the less aesthetic railway line and backs of tower blocks.
No matter: it would not be long – and it was not- before I could enjoy this view with a cold beer.
It is good to be back.