We felt a bit cheated as while we were whizzing round the beautiful hilltop villages of Southern France , Vincenzo Nibali and his mates were pedaling up and down the seven hills of Sheffield .So in homage ,on our return from Nice ,John and I went out to the best pizza place in London ( so says the Ealing Gazette ) and cycled home through Walpole Park .Ok ,so it’s not Alpe -d’Huez , but there is one bit I had to change gear and swerve – otherwise God knows what would have happened to Granny on her mobility scooter .Dangerous stuff this cycling.
We were lucky enough to stay in a house on a hill overlooking the Bay of Gigaro, with nothing but garden and a plunge pool between us and a 180 degree view of the sea -the vista was breath-taking .The house had steps down to a little beach -where the whitest,blobbyist male sunbather chose to lie in the position of Leonardo da Vinci’s ‘Vitruvian Man‘-he must have a lot on his mind as he’d even forgotten to put his trunks on .Not quite such a good view ,but perfect for my surreptitious life-drawing class .
Everything about the time we spent there was beautiful- the food ,the drink ,the early morning walks ,the swimming,the relaxing ,the crosswords ,the scrabble ,the aperitifs ,the sundowners.
It is at times like these ,I feel very blessed.