So I’m sat here, in bed at 5 past 7, in Cannes, where it’s nice and dark (cool Christmas lights, always the sign of a good place to be, I reckon. V. stylish, as you would expect.)
And I’m typing furiously to get all the follow up from last week’s meetings sorted out for sending this evening so that I can be merrily shipping off the next lot of stuff from this week’s trade show, and the Tings Tings come on MTV.
I’m in France, watching English MTV dubbed into German, with loads of English speaking bands playing.
The Tings Tings is good to type to, because it’s the stroppy ‘that’s not my name;’ song, which is kind of relentless and might have to go on my ipod now that I’m determined to get back into going round the block in my trainers at a mildly increasing speed before my tummy takes of the world (hilariously, I consumed about 15 grilled and salted pistachio nuts but there you go. No one is perfect).
I have since watched some weird show with Bret Michaels of Poison fame looking for love. Love appears to wear lurex, have implants and wear a lot of make up. it also appears to be frighteningly genuine at all times.
On the other side, one of France's leading intellectuals is talking about his private life, which would be the equivalent of the Pope telling us his top ten shower singalong tracks, coz they are really strict about that kind of thing - have a good look at Mitterand - zero commentary on his mistress, his illness, etc. Mucho commentary on his politics and their effects. i think that's better.
Big up to the minister at present who's pregnant and not telling about her private life.
oh and family guy dubbed into German reallydoesn't work.
But Cannes in the sunshine does. and the Christmas lights are just too fabulous.
peace out people