Marseille

Marseille

Whilst the mischievous Mistral winds kept us at bay in Bandol we hopped on a train and followed the line to Marseille. We had planned to stop here anyway as the harbour has so much history, but Silver Paws was best left in the safety of Bandol marina rather than risking the rough waves, so we left her behind and day tripped to Marseille instead. 

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St Tropez

St Tropez

St Tropez didn’t even wait a day to show off. Our first afternoon we were greeted with the single best entrance I’ve ever seen … and I’ve seen Beyonce in concert. 

In my usual Queen B style, I was doing the laundry. Captain was pottering. From a distance came a loud bass, the sea bounced to the rhythm. It grew louder. Bemused sailors emerged from their galleys. St Tropez halted in their Jimmy Choo’s. Rounding into the marina was a huge super yacht and on its bow were five very fit, track-suited, air-max booted, bling bling black dudes, all grooving away to a very provocative song. Ear muffs were placed over every child in town. It made my day. I have no idea who they were, basketball stars, rappers, hedge fund managers. Who cares. They had swagger...

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300 degrees in the dark; Night passage Girolata to St Tropez

300 degrees in the dark; Night passage Girolata to St Tropez

Watching dawn arise, the atmosphere slowly but surely getting shade by shade lighter until the sun finally raises its head above the pulpit bursting colour and warmth across the sea. The swell calmed itself and for a few hours it was just me and Silver Paws, the sunrise and the sea... 

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