The hat’s the thing.

Spike and I are on Day 5 of our trip to France. We’re in Cagnes-sur-Mer, where Renoir spent his last days.

Only one French person has been rude to us so far: a woman in a bakery had no patience for Spike’s version of “croissant”, of which she had none anyway.

As for me, I’ve only been rude to one French person so far, although Spike says that the man’s nationality is actually Australian. (I brushed past him and his luggage, with my luggage, on the train.)

There are still twelve days left on this trip to see who wins the Battle of the Insensitives.

Going from Paris to Cagnes-sur-Mer on the TGV.

Going from Paris to Cagnes-sur-Mer on the TGV.

Spike and her hat have been quite a hit. Put on a yeti hat and you’ll be a goodwill ambassador, too.

Ze brie and ze cigarette are all zat I need.

Ze brie and ze cigarette are all zat I need.

There are many hedges-for-fences here.

There are many hedges-for-fences here.

Still getting over the jet lag.

Still getting over the jet lag.

The beach at Cagnes-sur-Mer.

The beach at Cagnes-sur-Mer.

The view of the Cagnes-sur-Mer castle from our balcony.

The view of the Cagnes-sur-Mer castle from our balcony.

The old, twisty Cagnes-sur-Mer.

The old, twisty Cagnes-sur-Mer.

Why do the Santas in Cagnes-sur-Mer not use the chimney?

Why do the Santas in Cagnes-sur-Mer not use the chimney?

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One Response to “The hat’s the thing.”

  1. Garreth says:

    santas? There is only one santa, I think you’ll find. my heathen friend

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