It is fun watching right of centre political commentators settling into five years of bitching against the Labour government's policies. Charles Moore had spotted the 'leather-lined wellington boots' worn by Steve Reed, the new Defra Secretary, who is piloting legislation to ban trail hunting.
Lord Moore is not amused at the Government's decision, but takes comfort from noting that the boot brand is 'Chasseur'. Moore interprets this in terms of the hunting lobby doing the chase; I fear that in truth it is Moore's clan that is being pursued. Tally Ho...
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This of course comes from the issue of gifts and freebies for politicians. Brenda from Bristol would no doubt protest: 'They're all at it!', and that is true, although when it comes to declarations of gifts I had never thought that what I wear as clothes would amount to my 'private office'.
One rule for Tories and another rule for Labour? I have frequently reflected on Liz Truss's categorisation of 'unConservative' behaviour eg the Sunak smoking ban. On this criterion it seems to me that taking gifts and freebies is eminently 'Conservative'. Labour's problem is that Keir Starmer made a big hoo ha over standards of behaviour, and so what have been termed his sanctimonious utterances have set him up for a dose of hoisting by own petard. As I have noted before, the communications meister Tony Blair viewed all Government moves through the lens of how they looked. Labour could do with smarter work on this aspect of running the country.
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Postcard from in and around Nice
The joy of a largely uncontroversial journey. 'Largely' only because of a cab route through town to Heathrow, with the first world-problem angst of wondering if it would have been quicker round the North Circular, and a grumpy cab driver who turned up 10 minutes late for an early morning flight and was then surprised not to get a tip.
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If you have never visited Nice you will not appreciate how much it has smartened up over the years through concerted City regeneration policies. The seedy central strip that bisects the Vieille Ville and the shopping district has been replaced by a linear park stretching up to the Museum of Modern Art; said Vieille Ville is a delight for wandering and now safely extends through to the Port area, with on the way by foot the wonderful chanced upon restaurant street that is Rue Bonaparte; the shopping district is not an arid desert for eating; and there are the trams...
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Trams. Once you are in the centre of Nice you don't strictly need them, as every destination is walkable, but they are useful for short hops if the feet are tired. Ignore Line 3 as it is outside the Centre. Line 1 looks weird on a map, but includes a stretch from the main station down to the central Place Massena and then along to the Port by the side of the park. Line 2 starts at the Airport and runs through the Centre to the Port, so useful for arrivals with light luggage. In the Centre don't try to find a street level stop, as the route goes underground. PS if you arrive with 20kg plus luggage, the taxi ride is under 30 minutes.
Tram tickets. Accessing public transport commonly freaks out tourists. In Nice it is dead simple: you can buy a carnet of 20 tickets at a tram stop - on my trip the carnet cost 19 Euros, and a ticket covers you for as long a trip as you want. The carnet is a plastic card dispensed from a machine, which you can use also to top up trips..Once on board you must validate the trip by tapping on the machine.......or you can consult your conscience. If the tram is quiet then an inspector could get on and jump you without notice. When the tram is congested it is possible to follow the locals, stand near the machine, and keep your eyes peeled so that you can tap quickly if needed. Of course, as a former practising solicitor I could not possibly recommend the latter......
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More transport. There is Le Grand Bus Tour, and there are the tuk tuks, altogether cleaner and more civilised than their London cousins, and devoid of horrid music.
But there is also Le Petit Train. Are you too cool for this? Naaa - release your inner child and hop on, because it ascribes a route up to the top of Castle Hill. Even if you are not into Nice history, there are virtually 360 degree views of the City and beyond. The Alpes-Maritimes descend to the edge of town, and you can clock the local saying that in Nice you can ski in the morning and swim in the afternoon. One can also spot Elton and David's modest gaffe high above the Cimiez district.
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There is plenty high culture, but I will not bore on, and anyway who is interested in culture when there is lunch and dinner to be eaten, with shopping/window shopping in between for those wedded to the latter? For this scribble I will focus on the places that can be visited by rail if you are there for longer than a weekend and you can cope with cheap but overcrowded trains.
Heading west, there is Cannes and Antibes, enjoyable to do out of season when the temperatures are bearable. East there are various, so two chosen:
Monaco
Curiosity value. At one end at the top of a hill, the old town (tip: a tap on a debit or credit card gets you on a convenient bus). Be ready to be knocked over by Tour 24 in the procession of groups off the cruise ships, as the locals cower in doorways and pray for the evening. There is the Royal Palace - nice for a quick photo - and some alleyways you can dive down to avoid the above. Views of yachts, yachts, yachts etc.
At the other end and also up a hill (again local bus useful) is is the Casino and the hotels and posh shops in the vicinity. I guess that how you see the area depends on your viewpoint on life. If you come from a pleb background like me, then it is easy to ridicule the obscene and absurd displays of wealth, but if I were a chap from a Gulf state rolling up outside a hotel in my Bentley, flinging my keys at a lackey, and marching inside followed by my hijabbed wife at a respectful three paces en arriere, I suppose I would not care what anyone else thought of me.
However, all is not lost for the rest of us in accessing Monaco hospitality. Near the Casino is the Cafe de Paris. It looks pretty exclusive, but is essentially a Ned without the chavs, and choosing judiciously you can eat without being stung in the pocket and watch your fashion-statemented betters gliding to and fro.
Ventimiglia
Just across the Italian border, and end of the route for the regional trains that hug the coast. There is still a childish thrill in moving into a different country, and no, Brits do not have to carry their Passports. For most, the attraction is the Friday market, where if you have a better eye for quality than me you can pick up clothing items at a fraction of what one would have to pay in Cannes or Nice. On this visit the heavens opened for a deluge, against the grain of what was otherwise glorious October Mediterranean weather, but it did not dampen the enthusiasm of shoppers, who dived into cafes and re-emerged with the sun.
I have painted a picture of free and easy train movement between France and Italy at this point. There is an exception. On the return journey three meaty police officers patrolled the train as soon as it left Ventimiglia. Migrant watch (and in fact same happens at the motorway border). The first station back in France is a small one before Menton, and the team could be seen disembarking and heading into an office to join colleagues and then presumably to return. They had fished, but on this occasion no catch. The work continues.
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The shortest train journey involved Villefranche-sur-Mer, and ironically was the most problematical. In fact the outward portion was by Uber due to shortness of time (17 Euros - quick and pleasant), and lunch was delightful - see restaurant recommendations below.
The targeted return was at 3.41pm. The station is close to the town - no problem. Two tickets were sought online via trusty Trainline. Only one could be bought. To avoid any problem of a repeat by the same person, I headed to the ticket machine, but time was short, and a queue of irritated travellers behind did not appreciate the button fumbling. Never mind, although the departure was imminent there was still time to try for another ticket online. Success - all that was needed was the email confirmation that would release a QR code.
No more than seven minutes later, Nice Ville approached. But also approaching was M. Le Ticket Inspector. And the email had not yet landed. Monsieur had a choice of victim between we two Brits, refreshing and refreshing a screen to try to get the email through, and a French chap who had clearly chanced his luck. No contest - go for the tourists.
We had one QR code, but still not the second. Ou est le second one? We were marched off the train. In a debate veering between French and English, the atmosphere heated up. Tactics were tried eg we are British tourists (no joy); one of us is a lawyer (even less joy and possibly unwise).
Eventually it took a 50 Euro payment to get us out of the Inspector's clutches. 10 minutes later as we recovered in a nearby cafe, the email came through. We returned to the ticket office. No, you can only claim a refund online. And a sympathetic official explained that the rules say that you must have the QR code before stepping on to the train. Now (sorry - one for the lawyers) was that material and onerous term sufficiently communicated before the ticket was bought.....?
Who cares, most of you would say. I will not bore you further, but the online refund process is geared to tickets bought through SNCF, not Trainline. It could be will to live time...
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Is it better to return on a good weather day or a bad weather day? I'm not sure, but seated ioutside a Nice cafe for lunch before an afternoon flight, watching French business folk out for their mandatory plat du jour (no sandwich al desko), it was difficult to prise oneself away.
Still, it was a flight back to London City, so stress-free before autumn/winter fog risk makes the route less predictable.
And indeed it was stress-free, luggage collected within 20 minutes, and out to rendezvous with the pre-booked minicab driver...who was in the vicinity, but not yet at the pick-up point. In fact he was never heading to the pick-up point, but to the other end of the car park.
Never mind. It was not raining and we found our man, a nervy apologetic chap. He led us to the Prius, but before loading cases he took out a mat. How considerate, I thought, to protect the cases from a worn boot surface.
Nope. You will be quicker than me, and yes, before we could leave he had to pray. Towards a magnificent sunset. My geography is not great, but it seemed to me that Mecca was not in that direction.
Tale not finished. At the exit his credit card did not work. He suggested that one of us might pay. We refused. Eventually a disembodied voice told him that the barrier would be lifted but next time he would have to pay twice.
He did not like this, and started to argue. Maintaining as much politeness as we could manage, we ordered him to leave NOW! Thank goodness, he complied.
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Restaurant recommendations
Criteria are good food; value for money; relaxed atmosphere; professional but not fussy service.
If you love seafood: In Nice, Cafe de Turin; Peixes in Rue Bonaparte; and Asian Factory (much nicer than the name). In Cannes, Astou & Brun.
Other: In Nice, Olive et Artichaut; Le Grand Balcon. In Villefranche, La Mere Germaine.
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Earlier in the month, a piece on Israel: Israel - Whom Do You Trust?
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Enough for October. Big political developments imminent. And Strictly is hotting up (there has to be something to stop us getting totally miserable...).
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The author is a writer, speaker, historian, occasional tour guide, and former Managing Partner of a City law firm.