** Warning for foul language! And I aint talking poultry!** You have been warned!
It's 5.15am here.
I've been awake since just after 3.00am.
Nope - not another bout of insomnia, I got up at this ungodly hour (it's only ok to be awake at that time if you haven't been to bed. Getting up after only 2 hours of sleep because despite best intentions to go to bed early you had to straighten your hair after the hairdresser decided to embrace the Carol Brady/Farrah Fawcett blow dry and THEN give yourself an emergency pedicure/medical intervention as your little toe's toenail has bloody well fallen off!!....another time.....) to catch the earliest train to Italy.
So we got up and walked - in the pouring rain (ha ha to all the people wearing designer gowns today!) to the train station. No buses that early, that would be far too convenient. M walked me as he didn't want me bumbling along alone. Aw. sweet.
Got to the train station, bought ticket and waited for the 4.30am train.
And waited.
Noticed that the electronic sign wasn't displaying times, but it often doesn't, so no biggie.
Waited.
Went to look at BIG timetable printed and displayed.....nothing amis there. Then noticed a very small sign saying "Journee du Vendredi 15 mai, suite a un mouvement social regional, la circulation des trains est perturbee."
Which translates to "we are c*nts".
Strike action. Today. NO trains going from our La Bocca trains station AT ALL, earliest train leaving from Cannes? 6.46am.
I hate French bureaucracy. Bloody Commie Unionists. Blah. I'm gonna punch a train driver in the kidney today, ninja style - very stealthily.
And am now wondering whose brilliant idea it was to strike for 2 days during the Film Festival, when there are tourists EVERYWHERE. Idiots.
And my hair is totally fluffy and ruined from the rain.
Fu-ck.
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