Here in the south of France, I have learnt the word “supprimé”. It means deleted. My train back to Marseille has been deleted. The next one is delayed 40 minutes, so I did the sensible thing and headed across the road to the small bar, and ordered a glass of white. The bar tender couldn’t speak any English at all, to the extent of asking a complete stranger in the bar to translate my terrible french “I would like a glass of white wine” (I thought I had that one covered..). However, he did wheel out a sentence “where is your boyfriend? It is impossible you do not have a boyfriend! You are beautiful! I love you!”. Classic.

50 minutes until the train comes, and I’m sitting next to a vineyard in Provence on the Côte d’Azur drinking wine on a warm summer’s evening. Life is not so bad.

And the train eventually came!! It was a veritable party on the platform after te delays!! We were all relieved!


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