Day 8 - A visitor in the night

Day 8

So whats a poor girl to do...innocently sleeping alone in my studio (in an as yet undisclosed specific location), and yet as I catch my much needed beauty sleep, I receive a visitor in the night! Only after the deed did he bother to tell me his name...Frank. So obvious a name for such a devient I could have guessed it. And so yes, I'm wounded and feeling the shame of some stranger stealing from me in the night, but you can bet your bottom dollar, that blighter Frank wont know whats hit him when he gets a whiff of the my new defences - Moziblast 2000!

Ok and back to semi normal conversation...I smothered my many bites in savlon and got on with the day. Now I'm feeling happy pottering about in the car, I ventured further afield to St Maxime. Just as lovely as Frejuis, perhaps even slightly more up market, it is filled with gorgeous boutiques, restaurants and the compulsory marina full of ridiculously expensive yachts. To give the french due credit all bar the tourists are well dressed and thus in some vain attempt to fit in I had teemed a nice skirt with platform red suade shoes.  What I hadnt accounted for was cobbled streets and teeming rain. And so as I tried my best to totter at speed without breaking my ankles to avoid getting drenched (no I didnt think to coordinate an umbrella with my outfit) I so almost fell, and accidently grabbed hold of some unsuspecting chap, and shireked "oh pardon mersoir!". In fairness he was nice about it, although I'm left with the delightful knowledge that I'm just as capable of looking a tit in France as I am in England. Actually I seem to have a greater propensity for it here in France. I suppose it could have been worse, I could have shrieked "oh balls!", or something equally eloquent. Anyway I very much enjoyed St Maxine and would gladly go back, but next time with an unlimited credit card. Well a girl can dream...oh and sensible shoes!

I've also decided that I need (not to be confused with want) a little leather jacket. Everyone seems to have one and it so smartens up a pair of jeans in that effortless smart/casual sort of way.

Back at the studio, I whittered away on facebook with my mum for most of the evening all the while slurping wine until I realised to my horror that I'd gone drank the whole lot! And so sitting sozzled on my own I thought it a good idea to pull the sofa bed out and watch an ancient comedy film (free with the sunday suppliment) about a dying mans last wishes to have his ashes spread at Morecambe Bay - a riveting storyline I know. In fairness the start and end were great...as for the middle, well god knows I was sound asleep :-)