Grumpy Old Men On Bikes

Having finished last night in Menton, close to the Italian border I am now slowly cycling back to Nice for a flight back to blighty. Yesterday was a cracking ride, packed full of songs: Can the Cannes The coastal ride from St Raphael to Cannes is world class.  Twisting with stunning views and just enough climbs to keep it interesting.  Cannes itself is glamerous and has a superb seafront cycle path so you can gawp without worrying about the traffic. No More Mr Nice Guy Next stop was Nice and another superb cycle path.  I stopped for a snack and had a hankering for Nice bisquits but it seems they don't sell them (which is clearly missing a trick!)  I made do with choccie digestives instead. The Chain (bit of lateral thinking needed here) The last big place before the border is Monaco.  Having never been there I did a bit of research: 38,000 citzens packed into less than a square mile (the most densley populated country on earth) 30 percent of the inhabitents are millionaires. Measur

Lost In France The route I am checking was created in the comfort of my home using Google Maps which has a 'cycling' mode that avoids busy roads and favours cycle paths.  This would be great but for the fact that Google thinks that all bikes are mountain bikes.  I have spent much of the last 3 days scrapping mud and sand out of my mechanical bits then searching for a viable alternative.  This is really piling on the miles and yesterday ended up well over 100 to create 75 miles of route.  Bugger. If I Could Talk To The Animals I'm  not saying the French are animals but suitable song titles aren't easy you know.  My French is pretty poor but I enjoy giving it a go.  Tonight when checking in to a hotel in Martigues I only got as far as 'Je m'appelle' when the receptionist told me she spoke perfect English so maybe we should use that.  I was a bit miffed but it made sense.  What made no sense was when I returned to order dinner and the same girl gave no indicati

As a child I remember being fascinated by the ghost train when the fun fair came to town.  It was pretty pathetic, and not at all scary, but how did they get such a long ride in such a small space? The twists and turns in the track created a journey length out of all proportion to the square feet used.  I'm guessing that the architect who layed out the latest floorplan at Stanstead Airport must have been a ghost train fan too.  After clearing security you walk for about 9 miles, through every department of duty free and then every other retail outlet, before eventually being released into the small remaining space where everyone  crowds around the departure board.  This really pisses me off! Yup, I'm off on my travels again.  This time I am in the South of France, researching a new route from the Spanish to Italian borders along the Med coast.  I am currently in Portbou, just over  the border in Spain, luxuriating in my €23 hotel room.  I have had worse! Wtach this space. Sent