How was Nice? Was it - DON'T SAY IT

I asked Ben what I should blog about tonight, and he did the cheeky monkey mechanic face again and said "have you talked about Nice?"

I haven't yet, I told him. What should I say about it?

"We went there?" he replied helpfully.

Ta, Ben. I bless the day that I picked you to be my muse.

So here goes. We have just (last Friday, actually, but I've only now got round to writing about it. You know how it is, Hotmail to de-junk, Facebook to check, Lolcats to lol at; I'm a busy lady) returned from the South of France. Nice, to be exact, on the French Rivieria, and it was lovely, pleasant, interesting and fun. All the words that your teacher in primary school told you to use when describing something 'not bad' instead of the awful 'n' word. You know what word I mean. Yes, that word. If I had a penny for everyone who has made a Nice joke, I would have... at least a quid. In fact I might go round and demand a penny from everyone who subjected me yet another Nice pun; every little helps, and Nice isn't the cheapest holiday resort on the map.

I wanted [Ben] to buy a souvenir item of clothing, a tradition I picked up in Paris a year or two ago. It's really just an excuse to buy clothes, but I've managed to grab a top in Pisa and one in Mons since. Ok, so Mons isn't that impressive since I actually live here, but still. However, the cheapest pieces in Nice were in the bargain bins full of clothes even a Peacocks aficionado would turn their noses up at, and the price was never lower than 20 euros. 20 euros! For a top I could make with my eyes closed and one hand tied behind my back!* So with a heavy heart I returned from Nice clothes-less, apart from the clothes I was wearing and those in my bag, which don't count.

Prior to jetting off to Nice we spent a week at home. It was really good to catch up with my friends and fambly; I really miss home when I'm back in Mons, but I'm aware that people only make quite such an effort to see me because at the moment I play a cameo role in their lives, that it won't be quite the same when I'm a series regular.

Once again I just turned to Ben to offer some insight into what events from our brief home visit were worthy of mentioning.

"We had chinese food on Saturday ... and indian food with Dave and Kaylee ... and a roast dinner at Weatherspoons," he recounted thoughtfully.

To say Ben likes his food is a bit of an understatement. If I didn't know how far he has to ride to work and back everyday and if I didn't essentially just sit on the sofa all day I would really resent his slimness.


*This is a slight** mistruth ***for emphasis. I think it worked.

** For 'slight', read 'substantial'.

*** For 'mistruth', read 'lie'.