On the sofa is a large pack of printouts. They include:
Timetables of coaches to and from Stansted airport and the same for Nice airport.
Timetables of trains from Nice airport in case the buses prove unreliable.
A map so we can walk if both bus and train fail.
Boarding passes for both directions in triplicate.
Maps of the terminals at both aforementioned airports.
Maps of Nice and Cannes.
Photographs of our destination and points on the way.
Phone numbers, emails and written instructions of all legs of our journey.
Passports.
Three guide books of dubious origin and worth (there is an image from my favourite one here)
All these have been assembled by Annabel in a vain attempt to keep me relaxed on our journey.
A large section of the Prelude is given over to Wordsworth's experiences in revolutionary France. I am hoping that three days in a free apartment in Cannes will provide me with similar poetic grist when, and if, I get to Cumbria. I have never been south of Paris before where my enduring memory of a school trip was the sudden and impressive stream of red wine vomit that coated the inside of the coach windows from four seats back. Annabel's memory of Cannes is similarly unpleasant. Having arrived at night and without money she took the romantic option of sleeping under a pier on one of the beautiful beaches. When she woke she found her head pillowed by a great deal of sexual detritus. This time however her meticulous planning should mean we avoid such visceral experiences.
Timetables of coaches to and from Stansted airport and the same for Nice airport.
Timetables of trains from Nice airport in case the buses prove unreliable.
A map so we can walk if both bus and train fail.
Boarding passes for both directions in triplicate.
Maps of the terminals at both aforementioned airports.
Maps of Nice and Cannes.
Photographs of our destination and points on the way.
Phone numbers, emails and written instructions of all legs of our journey.
Passports.
Three guide books of dubious origin and worth (there is an image from my favourite one here)
All these have been assembled by Annabel in a vain attempt to keep me relaxed on our journey.
A large section of the Prelude is given over to Wordsworth's experiences in revolutionary France. I am hoping that three days in a free apartment in Cannes will provide me with similar poetic grist when, and if, I get to Cumbria. I have never been south of Paris before where my enduring memory of a school trip was the sudden and impressive stream of red wine vomit that coated the inside of the coach windows from four seats back. Annabel's memory of Cannes is similarly unpleasant. Having arrived at night and without money she took the romantic option of sleeping under a pier on one of the beautiful beaches. When she woke she found her head pillowed by a great deal of sexual detritus. This time however her meticulous planning should mean we avoid such visceral experiences.
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