Nice

This region is famous for burglars. One year, we had tenants for the summer. Burglars came through the window, and took away the men's trousers first, and then went to work. Little did they know that our tenants valued their cameras more than their appearances. One of the men chased the burglars away in his briefs.

So, today, as we load into our Citroen to venture out to town, we shut down our shutters and wait for our daughter to return from her walk with Charlie. As she puts the dog in the house, I hear a shout from my husband, but it is too late. The key is in the house, and all the humans are outside - we have done a very good job of locking down the house.

15 minutes later, we have found one loop hole in our otherwise watertight security. Having recovered our key, we drive off to Nice in our little banged up car fitted for 5. As we cross police, we shove down the head of the smallest human in the car, and pretend that all is fine.

Old Nice is very much the same as a couple of years ago. We stroll around and take in the sights, the kids throw stones into the Mediterranean, and our youngest who is sage enough to have donned his swim trunks, bounces about in the sea.