Day one on the French Riviera.
Seriously. Arrived late last night after a nightmare journey. Absolutely torrential rain and wind on my walk to train station to take me to Gatwick (cursing my decision not to drive) so I travel to airport soaked to the skin and hugely uncomfortable. Then the flight's delayed so my 10pm meeting with a director in the Petit Majestic is immediately stricken off the schedule.
Touch down in Nice and wait for-ever for my bag but then a bit of luck. Two good looking actresses target me (naturally) to share a cab with them to Cannes. So I graciously agree to help out. I'm in my hotel at midnight using my frugal French to try to book in. Il faut payez maintenant? "Do I have to pay now?" You bet your ass.
It's hot and I'm stressed (nervous) so I don't get much sleep. I hook up with Bournemouth legends Tim Clague and Suki Singh who hold my hand down to the Palais in order for me to get my accreditation and go on my merry way. I've got meetings scheduled throughout the day but the first exec calls to cancel. Still, it gives me time to get the know of the land and chill out.
I find my feet and ease into the rapport of the meetings. It's great. It's still hot. But who am I to complain. I'm typing this in the American Pavilion and the first exec calls to rearrange our meeting for right now, which is fine by me. So I'm off for my last meeting of the day before I retire for Cobra Beer hour at the UK Pavilion. God bless Indian beer.