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And so, for the first time since last Thursday night, I can relax for a while.
Last night when I got back from Monte Carlo I intended to download some material and write it up, beffore sending out the newsletter around midnight. What in fact happened was that I found the source material, wrote a single headline, and then at 7.45pm went "to lie down" for an hour or two. I woke up at 10pm and realized that I was not going to be getting out of bed.
Managed to get up at 5am, send out the newsletter, and then trek south to catch the 100 bus to Monaco, because there is a train strike today, and I didn't want to gamble on a train running. I had a 1-to-1 interview with an insurer CEO, so it would not have looked good to miss it.
I couldn't find where to catch the 100.
The bus station is long demolished. The places that used to be the terminus as a replacement have also vanished. In the end I walked down to the port and waited there. There were already people on the bus when the 100 arrived, so it must start from somewhere but damned if I know where.
((On the way back, btw, it stopped at Place Garibaldi, headed through the Museum arch and turned right. But it seemed to park itself in a place that was not a bus stop. I shall have to investigate).
After that, the day went remarkably smoothly, apart from the fact that the only directions i had to meet this CEO were "in the Hotel de Paris". At the appointed time I was frantically on the phone to London when, at the same time, I spotted a lady ostentatiously holding a "Canopius" bag, so I knew she was the right person.
I also took coffee on a terrace on the fifth floor of the Hermitage Hotel -- I dread to think how much PwC pays to rent THAT suite for five days. And then I had coffee looking over the port, courtesy of the Swiss Re pavilion. All rather luxurious, although the free parrties in the evening are much more fun. Obviously, being a non-drinker, in Nice, with a newslettter to do the following day, I haven't been to any of these shindigs. Sigh.
There was a 40-minute wait for the 100 bus coming back. Well, only 20 minutes for me, but I was assured by someone else that they had been waiting 40 minutes and had just missed one. The bus was packed. Quite a ffew got off at Monaco. Iit was still packed. So the bus drive attempts to shovel people on.
But some people insist on getting on, and then not moving down the bus . Some move a desultory three or four feet down the bus, leaving acres of empty space nearer the back. So the poor driver has to ask them (which she did very politely, I thought) to move along the bus. And the family of four ignored her completely (not least because they were Spanish).
Luckily there was a pushy Frenchwoman in front of me, and between us we made it quite clear that they should move their fucking arses pretty quickly or face the consequences.
The strategy on these buses is, of course, to get as near the back as possible so that, when people get up to leave, you are nearest the seats (seasoned underground travellers will know of a similar trick when travelling in crowded tube trains, because people seem petrified of being unable to get off at their stop, and so stay as close to the doors as they possibly can). and so you get a seat for the (long) bus journey relatively quickly.
It was even more laughable. As the French lady and I got to the rear of the bus, there was an empty seat available. She took that one. I hung around andd got a great seat about two stops later. Meanwhile, at the front of the bus, they were still packed like sardines.
People are stupid. Provincials unused to crowded public transport seem to be the stupidest. But, in a just world (which public transport clearly is), they suffer for their stupidity. I had a vague suspicion that the French lady just ahead of me was not a local. I think she was from Paris. She certainly had an excellent "don't take no shit" attitude which all the non-Parisien French hate.
And so, back in the apartment. No absolute panic about things to do. I had a coffee as soon as I got in. As I lounged back on the sofa and switched on i24 (perhaps I should sue the French channel for breach of copyright) and drank that coffee, it tasted immeasurably nicer than any of those 4 euro (or more!)coffees that I had sipped at the Cafe de Paris or elsewhere facing the casino in Monte Carlo.
______________
Last night when I got back from Monte Carlo I intended to download some material and write it up, beffore sending out the newsletter around midnight. What in fact happened was that I found the source material, wrote a single headline, and then at 7.45pm went "to lie down" for an hour or two. I woke up at 10pm and realized that I was not going to be getting out of bed.
Managed to get up at 5am, send out the newsletter, and then trek south to catch the 100 bus to Monaco, because there is a train strike today, and I didn't want to gamble on a train running. I had a 1-to-1 interview with an insurer CEO, so it would not have looked good to miss it.
I couldn't find where to catch the 100.
The bus station is long demolished. The places that used to be the terminus as a replacement have also vanished. In the end I walked down to the port and waited there. There were already people on the bus when the 100 arrived, so it must start from somewhere but damned if I know where.
((On the way back, btw, it stopped at Place Garibaldi, headed through the Museum arch and turned right. But it seemed to park itself in a place that was not a bus stop. I shall have to investigate).
After that, the day went remarkably smoothly, apart from the fact that the only directions i had to meet this CEO were "in the Hotel de Paris". At the appointed time I was frantically on the phone to London when, at the same time, I spotted a lady ostentatiously holding a "Canopius" bag, so I knew she was the right person.
I also took coffee on a terrace on the fifth floor of the Hermitage Hotel -- I dread to think how much PwC pays to rent THAT suite for five days. And then I had coffee looking over the port, courtesy of the Swiss Re pavilion. All rather luxurious, although the free parrties in the evening are much more fun. Obviously, being a non-drinker, in Nice, with a newslettter to do the following day, I haven't been to any of these shindigs. Sigh.
There was a 40-minute wait for the 100 bus coming back. Well, only 20 minutes for me, but I was assured by someone else that they had been waiting 40 minutes and had just missed one. The bus was packed. Quite a ffew got off at Monaco. Iit was still packed. So the bus drive attempts to shovel people on.
But some people insist on getting on, and then not moving down the bus . Some move a desultory three or four feet down the bus, leaving acres of empty space nearer the back. So the poor driver has to ask them (which she did very politely, I thought) to move along the bus. And the family of four ignored her completely (not least because they were Spanish).
Luckily there was a pushy Frenchwoman in front of me, and between us we made it quite clear that they should move their fucking arses pretty quickly or face the consequences.
The strategy on these buses is, of course, to get as near the back as possible so that, when people get up to leave, you are nearest the seats (seasoned underground travellers will know of a similar trick when travelling in crowded tube trains, because people seem petrified of being unable to get off at their stop, and so stay as close to the doors as they possibly can). and so you get a seat for the (long) bus journey relatively quickly.
It was even more laughable. As the French lady and I got to the rear of the bus, there was an empty seat available. She took that one. I hung around andd got a great seat about two stops later. Meanwhile, at the front of the bus, they were still packed like sardines.
People are stupid. Provincials unused to crowded public transport seem to be the stupidest. But, in a just world (which public transport clearly is), they suffer for their stupidity. I had a vague suspicion that the French lady just ahead of me was not a local. I think she was from Paris. She certainly had an excellent "don't take no shit" attitude which all the non-Parisien French hate.
And so, back in the apartment. No absolute panic about things to do. I had a coffee as soon as I got in. As I lounged back on the sofa and switched on i24 (perhaps I should sue the French channel for breach of copyright) and drank that coffee, it tasted immeasurably nicer than any of those 4 euro (or more!)coffees that I had sipped at the Cafe de Paris or elsewhere facing the casino in Monte Carlo.
______________
