Just remember gentle reader, not everything you read on social media is accurate, some of it is carefully placed to be read by certain parties. Lets just say that I retain the right to fuck someone completely over in a millisecond. After todays events the ball is securely in my court and I’m just gently bouncing it on the base line, contemplating my next shot. That’s all I’m going to say on the matter for the moment, other than at one point today I did feel like Blofeld on a giant swivel chair stroking a large white pussy, with the power to destroy someone then and there.
Jamie said last night was the best sleep he’d had in ages. I spent seven hours wide awake with a sore throat, thinking that if I could press a button there and then to end my life I would have gone for it, it was like being permanently poked with daggers.
The weather today was very strange, I took Sasha out and it was bloody awful. I then went out by myself and found a Geocache which was a DNF before and it had slightly improved. In between all this I’d been writing a stack of TripAdvisor reviews. Lost count how many, and I’ve only just left Disney. I then went out for an evening walk, apart from it being a bit nippy, it was actually lovely. Did the accounts and more bloody reviews.
Jamie is cooking tonight, so the only thing I’m likely to die of in the next 24 hours is food poisoning.
Woke up in a foul mood and it hasn’t really improved all day. Got up and walked Sasha. Then sorted out some of the holiday photos. We then walked into town. Picked up that Blu-ray of ‘Pulp Fiction’. Been getting slowly pissed off with people at work, now just tempted to leave them to it and pursue other things. Tonight we went to Bath and saw ‘Spamalot’, it was very good. It lightened my mood somewhat, that lasted about ten minutes.
Yesterday mainly started in bed. Then after a while I did eventually get up and went Geocaching for an hour or so as there were a couple of new ones just up the A38. Found both of those no problem. Then had the sudden desire to tidy up the garden. Spent about four hours chopping up tree bits and jamming it all in the bin. Had a shower and then went to the pub with my sister. Much larger was drunk.
So this morning I had breakfast at the usual time and did coffee. Did some reading and then had more coffee. We popped to the mall. I then attacked the garden some more. Walked to the gym. Got stared at by lots of people. I didn’t think I was that ugly, until I realised looking in the mirror, both arms are completely covered in cuts. It looks like I’ve had a very depressing week and had a go at my wrists. Anyway, got through Pump without committing suicide, and walked home. Then spent another hour attacking the garden. I’m not sure what’s thorn and whats flower, so basically I’m just hacking the lot out.
I think I reached the point in my life where I’m considering a water feature.
After a fucking awful nights lack of sleep. All I can remember was being bitten to fuck all night. Now I would have expected this in Africa, or even the Caribbean but not Nice. I was fairly pissed but it was still vey uncomfortable. I’m covered in bite marks. Had breakfast. Went for a wonder. We then packed and checked out. Grabbed some lunch, well breakfast for bum boy. Waited for our transfer, which was late, but was in a Mercedes, so was forgiven. Flight was very uneventful. There was a guy behind me who was hamming it up big time about being an accredited actor, spending a week in Cannes. I saw him afterwards, a good job there is work for fucking ugly actors. Mother drove us home. I can go on every roller coaster in the world and feel some apprehensive, but I only feel truly terrified when I’m in the front seat and she’s driving babbling crap. I tried to tell her some bits about the holiday, but they just weren’t as important as her week or anecdotes from thirty years ago. I’ve given up trying. At the end of the day it cost me thirty quid, which is about half the cost of a taxi or parking so I’ll let it go. She dropped us off, used the loo and buggered off. We thought we’d got shot of her, until she rang the bell and moaned about her light being knackered and ‘if you get five minutes’, can I pop in and sort it out for her. Plus I couldn’t give a shit if she hasn’t had wine for three weeks. I’d got shit-faced on a bottle a night for the past couple of weeks thank you very much. Still. Unpacked. Checked the credit card. Didn’t spend as much as I’d thought, although I did knock up some fairly impressive bar bills. Back to just idling. Now just accelerating towards death again. At least I can go to bed and not be bitten by something.
So started this morning with the bizarest of dreams. Nat’s brother had stolen my car and kept it hidden for ten years. It’s all too bloody bizare to go into. After breakfast we walked the couple of minutes to the train station and got the train to Cannes. I took the guide book with me and we followed it around and did the sights. We ended up at a small restaurant for lunch and sat there for an hour or so before doing the last part of the tour. Got the train back and then had a nap. I had a horrible dream, I was at Mark’s funeral, but he wasn’t actually dead.
Had a shaower and we ventured out less than a minute away to a Chinese and had a lovely meal. People say the French are arrogant and rude, but on no occasion did we find them anything but polite and friendly. We’ve really enjoyed our time here. It’s certainly been just a little bit different. If we hadn’t been under considerable time pressure we would have not given France a second thought. We have really enjoyed it, would we come back here again? No, certainly not. But we would not have missed it for the world.
For the first time this holiday I didn’t set the alarm. I went to sleep half cut probably and remember waking quite early with a pain on my back. After further investigation it turned out that I’d fallen asleep on a bottle top, after removing it I was somewhat much happier. Had breakfast by myself. I then sneeked off for a bit of a walk down to the coast. Came back and bum boy was still in bed. We eventually ventured out. I had the town map. We covered basically about five square miles in four hours. By the end we were very dehydrated and hungry, so we dived in a random cafe on the promenade and had a meal and a beer. Picked up a few bits of tat and headed back for a long nap. Went out for dinner, quite local as it was raining. Somewhat disappointed in the local restaurants, expecting more seafood, but basically bugger all. Anyway, had fish and chips, a beer and a bottle of wine. Nice. Another day over, can’t complain at all really. Tomorrow I think we are venturing to Cannes.
Okay, so we both had breakfast this morning, which was quite unusual to start with. We walked to the station, got a ticket and then descended on Monaco. A nice little town on the ass end of nowhere. It was packed. Stupid place. We walked down the street and there was a shop, not selling houses as normal, but selling aircraft. It’s that kind of town. We meandered for a while but soon headed up the hills and handed our ticket over. We were right on top of the camera runs. Managed to get a nice spot overlooking around four sections of the track. The race itself was fairly dull until the last ten minutes. Lewis Hamilton got screwed by his team once again. I was pretty much rooted to the spot for two hours. I did have one really annoying ‘selfie’ girl who was getting closer and closer to the wall and kept banging into me. In the end I just turned round and stared into her phone. She then turned to me and said ‘ah thankyou’ and finally fucked off. Good job as I’d actually enjoy helping her over the wall and the forty foot drop below. Headed back on the train. Had a bit of a snooze and then we headed out for food. Tonight we had the Nice traditional Chinese.
So the alarm went off at 6AM. I got up. Jamie didn’t. I ate breakfast pretty much to myself, apart from the receptionist. We got on the road about half eight, a bit shocked the sat-nav said about six thirty for arrval. Anyway, we got going. It was one hell of a drive, I stopped for a piss about four times. And fuel. Eleven hours and about 100 Euro in tolls later, we finally arrived in Nice. After a bit of pissing about we managed to park the car in the correct place, which did envolve driving up the worlds steepest bloody ramp. The car was on full lock, how the hell I got it up five levels without scraping anything Christ alone knows. We walked to the hotel which was a few minutes away. It’s a cheap Best Western, no bar, but breakfast included. I’ve stayed in bigger cupboards, but it’ll do for a few days. We ventured out and had an Indian. As they say, when in France…Anyway, made it back to the room, now watching the Eurovison Song Contest. Tomorrow we do F1.
So I started this morning with breakfast. Okay, so I cheated a bit and jumped on the end of a table with the photocopier salesman and said I was with them. They were all Japanese anyway, so weren’t going to put up a fight. We hung around the room for a bit as the park was open to eleven at night. We walked there just about mid day. The park is somewhat difficult to decribe, it’s mainly a mixture of large format cinema screens, some 2D some 3D, some with bits that move, some with bits that move too much and cause you much bruising. We sat through countless films about rescuing animals, space telescopes and fish. It’s all very educational, even if it’s all in French and couldn’t really understand a word of it. The first ride we went on envolved sitting on a toilet seat with a bunch of rabbits. That was somewhat strange. We also ended up doing ‘Dancing with the robots’, twice. Now that was a weird ride, you were thrown around the room on the end of a 26 foot robotic arm and span around like shit. It was certainly an experience. We ate, it was Friday, so pizza. Walked round the gift shops and then did the night time show. Which envolved lots of water, projections and lasers.
As usual with these places, even the people who couldn’t speak Engish made a really good effort to offset my truely appalling French. Jamie made a good point that you wouldn’t really get that in Alton Towers. Next time I’m there queuing at Nemesis and Jordan who is twelve, who is only there because he failed his NVQ in being stupid, and Darren who’s forty-seven, who’s only there because he impregnated Jordan’s mother ask me how many people, I’ll just say ‘Que?’ and see what a wonderfully blank reaction I’ll get.
So tomorrow is an early start. Relocation from central France right down to the Azure coast. Should be about nine hours driving. The only problem being that I have to do it in the same car as Jamie, who know doubt will spend the whole time buzzing and beeping, then he’ll get his phone out and that will start doing it as well.
So this morning started nicely with breakfast. I’d already mastered the ‘double espresso’ button from yesterday, so had two of them, with my usual cereal and yogurt. Then it was pack up time and into my lovely ‘brown’ car. To be honest, it’s actually quite a nice car, it’s very comfortable, has a lot of room and is well equipped. It’s just the exterior is just so bloody awful. Anyway, we got on the road and headed for the dreaded Paris. I had spent some quite considerable time the night before working out some alternative routes that avoided Paris, but in the end decided that really the fastest way was to just bite the bullet and skirt the outskirts somewhat. In the end it didn’t turn out to be too bad a decision. The traffic did get somewhat heavy, but we were after all doing the equivalent of the M25 around Paris. The traffic was quite slow moving. That didn’t bother me. What did bother me somewhat was the shear timing of some people. The way they would indicate and then cut in front of you are a miliseconds notice. It was, quite frightening. It’s no wonder that the French have one of the highest accident rates in the world. They are, easily, the most bloody awful drivers I have ever come across. It was a scary hour, but, that was all it was. As soon as we exited basically south west from the orbital we were in clear air. And by that I mean bugger all traffic. France has the same car population as the UK but over twice the area, and 90% of the traffic is in Paris, so as soon as we were clear of that we were pretty much okay. I’d worked out the cruise control on the brown turd. Actually it is really good. You set the ‘limit’ on the touch screen, then keep the throttle floored. It will then never exceed the limit. Which is really cool if you have a very heavy right foot like I do. Cruising at 90+ on French roads is a breeze. Okay, they are toll roads, and it cost us about £30 for today’s journey, but they are great to drive on with minimal traffic. We were actually doing great time so stopped off at a town called ‘Toures’. Pretty big place. Managed to find a car park by the station no problem. We walked round for a while and picked up a sandwich. We were back on the road in a couple of hours.
Now turned off on to ‘Futuroscope’. Which is a bloody weird place to be honest. It’s best described as Aztec West, but without the ducks. It’s very commercial with a shit load of hotels. We decamped and after a bit I decided to go on a bit of a walk. Being couped up in a car for five hours doesn’t go down well with me. I covered all the area that could be walked, that didn’t span a motorway. I must have passed about twenty hotels. The park tomorrow looks well cool anyway. Came back, Jamie was still napping, not sure what is up with him, he’s done sod all, all day, yet seems somewhat sleepy. He napped for another couple of hours. I read a magazine. Eventually at just gone nine we went down to dinner. It was a full on poncy meal. And by that I mean one that costs me over a hundred quid and I’m still blooody hungry afterwards. It was quite eventful though. There was a group of Japanese tourists at another table who were getting absolutely shitfaced on Cognac and wondering how they were going to claim the bar bill on expenses. After what was actually a really nice dinner, Jamie retired to the room for probably yet another nap. I retired to the bar to drink my own bodyweight in Heineken. The Japanese tourists have retired, but have now been replaced by a whole shitload of French, photo-copier salesmen.
So tomorrow, Futuroscope, tonight, bed.