Cyber lesbian stalker alert!

Thought that might grab your attention....but it's not a News of the World headline, it's actually true! It all started on the night (or rather the morning after) the Monaco Grand Prix. Regular readers of this blog will remember that last year was memorable for the fact that Iain got a bit 'confused' on his way home after a couple of glasses at the Cafe de Paris, missed his train, sloped off to the Rascasse instead and ended up on a bench at Monaco station til Monday morning. He arrived home in the previous day's clothes (obviously) and got a roasting from Livvy for daring to walk through Grasse station at a time when some of her college friends could have spotted him and seen his resemblance to said highly embarrassed daughter.

Could it get any worse? I didn't think so....this year, he invited three London mates to join in the fun. The plan was to 'watch' the race at Cafe de Paris, then 'meander' back towards Grasse for a curry before arriving home about 11 ish. He didn't specify which day though. Fast forward to Monday morning, no text or phone call and no three drunken musketeers in various states of inebriation.

On the way back from the school run, I texted to say 'Where are you?' Ten minutes later, Iain replies 'Who is this?' Not the response I expected, so struggling to sound cool I send back 'It's me you idiot...the wife you never bother to call...' Then back comes 'I think you have a wrong number.' I reel back through my contacts to find I have an unexplained mobile number next to Iain (his real number is under Iain France, rather helpfully.) So I hastily send back 'Sorry, thought you were my husband!' only to get back: 'I don't mind being your husband...I am female though!' I end up having a little chat with Fran, who works as a carer, has a girlfriend in the police force and thinks it's hilarious that I am texting her at 7am in London to demand where the hell she is!

This was two weeks ago. A few days ago, I was lying by the pool with a chilled glass of rose (this has to be done on a regular basis for the next four months) and up pings 'Iain' again, asking 'So did he ever get home?' We had another little exchange about men (she has four kids so I'm guessing she liked them once) and a little laugh at their expense and I told Iain that if he doesn't shape up, Fran is waiting for me!
At least he didn't end up on a bench this time, quite the reverse, Tony booked a room at the Hotel de Paris which they all snuck into and crashed out on the floor until Monday.....

Have had my running coach on the phone this evening asking why I haven't been running with the club for ages. Well, between working on the house, writing up Elle Macpherson, covering the Cannes Film Festival and entertaining six sets of visitors in the last six weeks, all that is missing is a run every other evening. It's so hot right now that running any more than 8k fills me with horror, let alone goose stepping round Pre du Lac car park, another 'training' exercise which certainly makes you stand out from the crowd.

Other news....we heard last week that Issy got into Fenelon. She is so smart but it was particularly tough this year and very over subscribed and we're so happy she will meet lots of international friends as well as the French friends she already has. After two years spent speaking just French all day every day at school, it will be a relief for her to have mates she can chat to in English once again.

Last week I was walking up to school with the dogs when I received an email from Disney asking if I fancy interviewing the Jonas Brothers in the States this summer during their tour. If you are over 15, you won't have a clue what I'm on about but Issy reliably informed me that they are HOT and massive thanks to their first film Camp Rock. So obviously I said yes. I love that a little walk through Bar sur Loup can end up as a trip somewhere fab thanks to the wonder of BlackBerry.

The glitz and glamour

First night in since the Film Festival started, the sofa has never ever felt this comfortable. Last night, I was getting ready to go out at midnight for a party with Paris Hilton at the VIP Room, and that is the kind of thing I used to do in the good old Ibiza days, when you could lie in bed til 2pm, in other words pre-kids.

Seems to have been a slightly lower key festival this year but not without its highlights. Robin Hood was a romp, despite Russell Crowe's erratic accent which wandered from Scotland to Newcastle and across the Irish sea. And Cate Blanchett looks just as flawless and beautiful in the flesh as she does on screen. Wall Street's sequel is very different to the original although Gordon Gekko is just as mean. And Tamara Drewe is a classic little low budget British offering that has hit written over it, with the excellent Gemma Arterton and a great supporting cast. It really made me miss England (but then it was shot in lush Dorset, not Soho.)

The three best things about screenings in Cannes are: you get to walk up the red carpet in jeans, you don't have to endure any boring adverts and the film starts at precisely the minute is says it will (the French wait for no-one.)

The parties have been rather lush too. Kicked off with a girls weekend which involved Baoli (I treated this as a warm up for the late nights to come), the Colombe d'Or, where Billy Zane was at the next table, Cosy Box and the beach on Sunday for recovery purposes.

Started Monday evening at a cocktail party on a yacht in Cannes Harbour, before heading back to Cosy Box for dinner til late but Tuesday was the party evening to end all others. The de Grisogono dinner at Hotel du Cap was AWESOME, chatted to Myleene Klass and Lionel Richie, who was full of beans and ready to party All Night Long (his pun not mine!) Naomi Campbell, Meg Ryan, Flavio Briatiore, Paris (she was everywhere), Margerita Missoni, it was wall to wall A list. Cheryl Cole did a mini-concert on the terrace which was ace then Will.I.am took to the decks and everyone was up dancing outside despite the fact that it was a bit nippy. A very cool party. Indeed.

Sadly had to leave to get to another party at le Baron, but watching Grace Jones storm the place with an electrifying set was worth it. She's 62 and looks phenomenal, had the whole place rocking in minutes, and couldn't even be upstaged by some rather cheeky flirting with a couple of A listers who are not together...interesting, cannot say more but all will be revealed in the US mag I was working for next week!

Last night, Milly and I rocked at VIP Room where Jalouse and Paris were hosting the night. The DJs were so much better than last year, they played a fantastic mix of Frank's New York New York over the top of Black Eyed Peas I Gotta Feeling, it shouldn't have worked but it did. And a wicked remix of Roxanne too. It was so worth the sixth 5am bedtime of the past seven days.

So it is that I am sitting here with a bowl of white chocolate ice cream (with real pieces of chocolate in, uhum) not caring that I now look 150, because I've had a blast. And despite the best efforts of Dr Sebagh's Youth Serum (which is seriously effective), the good doctor cannot yet walk on water and restore me to pre-party health and glow without a few 8-hours-a-night-nights, the first of which is fast approaching. Hurrah for that.

Cannes can

The good news is the Cannes Film Festival starts tomorrow...the bad news is it looks like this week at least will be a washout. The rain hasn't let up for ten days, much of the Cannes seafront has been destroyed by freak waves which have been battering the beachfront restaurants and the pressure is on to clean it all up before tomorrow's opening ceremony. As I write this, a huge grey cloud is engulfing us for about the 100th time today. Booorrrrinng, never thought I would be complaining about the weather here.

One of the joys of Film Festival is wandering around in the sunshine, grabbing a coffee and a chat outside at one of the cafes or even fitting in a little beach lunch between screenings and press conferences. Think that scenario is looking unlikely for the first few days at least.

Never mind....have been invited to some fab parties, one of which is on the beach next week, with Mel B, Victoria Hervey and Paris Hilton, and Carl Cox in the DJ booth, so really hoping the sun will have its hat on by then. It won't be the same with wind and rain lashing down.

Robin Hood opens tomorrow so at least I will start off in a warm dry screening theatre. Word is that Russell Crowe and Cate Blanchett will be here for tomorrow night's premiere .... my other top choices are Tamara Drewe with the brilliant Gemma Arterton, the sequel to Wall Street, with Michael Douglas reprising villainous Gordon Gekko (and Carey Mulligan playing his daughter), Fair Game with the brilliant Sean Penn, who NEVER puts in a bad performance, and Naomi Watts and Woody Allen's You Will Meet a Tall Dark Stranger. The title alone makes it a must-see without the fabulous cast list.

It's always good to have a few buddies to party with...Lissa is here from LA working in Cannes and Sarah and her entire office are descending for Baoli, le Colombe d'Or and whatever else comes up. Last year was hard going, I have a feeling I'm going to enjoy this year's festival so much more, weather notwithstanding.

Gary and Phil just left after four days here with Michelle, Adam and their lovely baby Evie. We didn't let the rain ruin our fun, dinner at Ecole des Filles, market day at Valbonne, lunch at Gourdon (in a cloud so no views then) are all the things we don't usually have time to do. Think they were praying for the ash cloud to hang around so they could spend a few more days here. And on the plus side, when everyone leaves, how lovely is it to slob out on the whole sofa (not just a quarter of it), drinking tea, (not wine) and reading all of last weeks papers?

One very brave and inspirational woman

I am sitting here wondering how to write what I want to write next without seeming trite or cliched. There is no easy way to do it.
A great friend of mine has just found out, after four years of valiantly battling against cancer, that she is losing her fight. The doctors cannot do anymore, despite yet another round of radical chemotherapy and radiotherapy,and the outlook is bleak short of a miracle.
L is a woman who has packed more into her half century than many do in a lifetime, a true party animal who doesn't actually drink but still has the best time, entertains and is a dynamic mother of four. On her 50th birthday, she invited her closest girlfriends over for lunch. We arrived to be greeted by semi-naked male models in bow ties and not much else wandering around with trays of champagne. Then the belly dancers arrived and we all had to get over ourselves and join in for an impromptu dance class, followed by more champagne, stupendous fish pie, and a long, unusual and utterly memorable afternoon full of laughter which ended only when we all reluctantly headed off for the school run. It was one of the most stylish, fun and hysterical lunches I have ever had the pleasure of being invited to, and it summed up the hostess perfectly.
Over the last two years, we have seen each other intermittently, always planning a weekend down here which somehow hasn't happened, due to treatment, house renovations and other irritations which always seem to get in the way. And even during her bleakest, most desperate times, L has still somehow found the time and energy to send a lovely long thoughtful message asking how life is, full of funny anecdotes about her hugely talented kids (who could out-perform the cast of Glee) and generally make you feel she is thinking of you.
She refused to miss my 40th birthday party even though she had only just been diagnosed and had started treatment a few short weeks before, and came along to dinner full of humour and life, entertaining my old school friends who had no idea of what she was going through. None of this can do her justice really.....you kind of have to know her to appreciate her but I hope this gets across a tiny little smidgeon of just how special she is.

Malaysian moments

It’s been an eventful Easter. First stop was Kuala Lumpur to meet Elle Macpherson and watch the filming of the final shows of Britain’s Next Top Model which returns this summer. I’ve flown with some great airlines before but Emirates really does put them all to shame. Amazing food, huge great personal TV screens which start the moment you get on the plane rather than half an hour into the flight, cabin crew that speak 12 different languages, and that was just in economy. It made BA look like Ryanair.

The downside was that they managed to leave top PR supremo Justin’s luggage in Dubai, meaning that after 24 hours travelling he had nothing when we arrived in KL and given that we had a royal gala reception with loads of foreign dignitaries the next day, it was not a great situation. He was calm under pressure (I would have been catatonic without my clothes and products) and his case finally turned up the next morning.

Kuala Lumpur is like any big city, quite American in feel with five star hotels, designer stores and malls in the centre but ten minutes drive from our hotel, we were in lush tropical countryside with jungle foliage and stunning views everywhere you looked. The people are fantastically friendly and hospitable. One of the highlights was meeting Jimmy Choo, who as well as designing shoes and couture also acts as Malaysia's ambassador for tourism. I managed to tell him how much I loved his shoes, no points for originality there, but sadly reader, he did not offer me a pair gratis.

The food was another plus. Vietnamese, Korean, Japanese, Indian and Thai food compete with Malay cuisine and although I draw the line at nasi goreng for breakfast, it was lovely to have such choice after two years of living in France and having to search really hard for good Eastern fare. Weirdly, they all stop serving at about 10pm which meant dragging our jet lagged bodies out early and going to bed just when you felt full of beans.

The best bit though was Dr Fish. Marty the producer told us about the spas you go to where hundreds of tiny fish nibble your feet in a lagoon (see above, if you can bear it.) It sounded mental so with all nine interviews done, we rushed off to try it before our flight home. If you are squeamish about feet, stop reading now. If not, here’s the deal. You sit at the waters’ edge and dangle your feet in the water and shoals of fish dive onto your feet and literally start nibbling at them, eating the hard skin with relish! My poor runners feet are not the prettiest (so glad I didn’t show them to Jimmy, although I was sorely tempted) but these fish were obviously peckish and not too fussy. I was yelping and giggling so hard that a Malaysian family started filming me with their camera. Their little girl kept asking, ‘Why you laughing lady?’ like it was the most normal thing in the world to be the main course for Malaysia’s marine life. Just make sure you don’t order whitebait afterwards!

Four days in, and it was time to come back. After the luggage debacle I decided to try my luck at the airport and tell the staff how disappointed we were with our outward journey. Bingo, Justin and I were upgraded...thank you Emirates! Suffice it to say that a flat bed, plasma TV screen half the size of my one at home and selection of over 100 movies made for a very pleasurable first leg, although by the time I reached Nice, 24 hours later, I was fit to drop.

The weather here has finally decided to cheer up so once i got back, we headed to Mandelieu for a few days by the beach. The girls have had all their UK friends over which means peace and quiet, uninterrupted conversations, a glass or two of rose with picnic lunches and the odd game of beach volleyball. Bliss. Really feels like I have had a holiday.

Have also been running in the Esterel every morning and there is no better start to the day than looking across the bay of Cannes towards the Isles de Lerins. The dogs have had loads of exercise although poor Oscar doesn’t know what’s hit him. This is a dog who rolls his eyes, sighs loudly and then pretends to be asleep whenever he hears the word walkies. He puffed like a steam train the first two mornings but by yesterday, I didn’t have to wait for him to have a breather and he now looks like he has lost a pound or two (which will offset all the sneaky treats the kids have been feeding him under the table.)

Iain had to leave early to go to a trade fair in Frankfurt but spent longer there than planned when the volcano stopped flights. He ended up spending 14 hours travelling back yesterday by train via Switzerland and Italy to get home. Had a flurry of texts all day as he kept me posted on how hungry/thirsty/fed up he was, making me feel quite guilty as I poured my first glass of wine and tucked into moelleux chocolat! But he wasn’t as stuffed as N and T, who had to hire a car, drive to Calais and get the ferry, picking up a friend en route who couldn’t get on board as a foot passenger, finally arriving home 30 hours late and £2,000 worse off!

Meanwhile M & F have decided to wait it out as their flight tomorrow morning is cancelled. It’s either hire a car, book the train – one way at £1500 for the family - or take your chances on flights being rescheduled next week and enjoy a bit longer in the warm sunshine. It does feel wrong that while the blitz spirit prevails among thousands of stranded travellers, hotels and transport companies are hiking their prices to capitalise on everyone else’s misery. For once, I’m so glad not to be travelling.....

I know that time just whizzes by as you get older but how did I become the mother of a 15 year old? I remember those chubby cheeks and that mop of Scandanavian white blonde hair and that angelic smile like it was last week, instead of which I now have a tall, moody teen who can be quite a good laugh when she wants to be with dyed-brown-but-rapidly-turning-red hair who is 36 hours away from 15.
It got me thinking about what I was like way back when..... I should be relieved that the worst she seems to do is go to parties, drink the odd beer and hang out in Valbonne on a Friday night eating pizza by the skate park with her friends.
That's tame compared to bunking into pubs (Hudsons in Kentish Town, where thanks to my heels and two friends who were four years older but actually looked younger than me, I never seemed to have a problem getting in or just as importantly, getting served at the bar.)Then there were the parties....my mum and dad were so liberal and laidback that they actually went out for the evening and stayed at my grandparents house so I could throw a party for my 15th birthday at home....their only uncool moment was driving by at midnight to make sure the house wasn't burning down or being marauded by gatecrashers. They even allowed me enough time the next day to clear up before arriving home. I cannot imagine doing that for my girls, unthinkable.
Then there was the henna incident...my look du jour was a shaggy henna-ed perm which I thought was the bees knees but looking back at old photos, it was so WRONG!
Last weekend was bittersweet as we partied to celebrate and mourn the Mayos moving back to England after seven years here. The wine and curries flowed, speeches were made and tears were shed and no-one can believe that next week they are off for good. We talked about what we miss about the UK ...my top three are M&S, having a phone conversation without hand gestures and long pauses as I struggle to make myself understood and goes without saying, people. And that's it, so on that basis, think I am good for a few more years here yet.
Cannes is approaching and having just received my accreditation, I am looking forward to another glam fest of parties, screenings and interviews. Malaysia also beckons with Elle Macpherson....watch this space!

How time flies....

...when you're having fun. This is my first chance to sit down and write something other than an email or a feature for weeks.

I am officially sick of winter now....we have lit so many log fires, which is lovely (especially now we have a chimney that actually takes the smoke away) but we've had sleet, freezing temps and snow in the village for the first time in years last month (luckily we were snug in Antigua!) Great for skiing tho, we went last week with friends for the day while the girls were at school and laughed so hard skiing off piste in two feet of fresh powder that we were down in drifts more than up on skis! We have had quite a few days on the slopes lately but I need some heat on my bones now!

Carried on celebrating Iain's birthday in Antigua last month, our little gang of 15 had a lovely time. Weather was stunning, beaches gorgeous (and empty) people lovely, I would very much recommend it, much nicer than Barbados. The reggae and steel band at Shirley Heights was brilliant fun and lunch at Carlisle Bay was fab too. Still have a little glow, but have been wrapped up like Arctic Annie since I got home so little chance to show it off. We had a laugh, rum punches on the beach, ate way too much and have tried to be sensible now I’m home but the cold weather makes salads very unappetising!

With the weather still so wintry, we have decided to crack on with the house and are DIY-ing like mad upstairs. I didn't know I was so handy with a paintbrush! It's a mini facelift shall we say, with the final fix happening later this year hopefully. I am soooo sick of mismatched tiles in every room upstairs and dodgy bathroom suites! The girls' rooms are priority, I feel bad that the last rooms they had any say in were at Carpenters Cottage, eight years ago when we renovated, and they were too young to say much then. So they are first on the list. Our guest suite leaves a little to be desired as yet but Iain has repainted it and it already looks and smells so much nicer!

Issy had her interview for Fenelon last week. All conducted in French with the head of the international section....I nearly fell off my chair, she is so fluent now, says alors a lot and sounds like she was born in Nice! It’s very academic and four times oversubscribed and she has to sit an entrance exam and have another interview but fingers crossed she will get in, we don’t find out til May/June.

Livvy is 15 in three weeks, God help us. We have been reading in French every night sinc Mme Savary said that she has to 'embrace' French life and culture. She clearly took those words to heart as she now has a French boyfriend, Theo, who speaks no English! Who'd have thought it? Checked him out on Facebook (much to her horror) and he looks nice. She has good taste, like her mom! I told her to brng him over for lunch or dinner sometime but she made choking sounds then left the room!

She is a proper teenager, rebellious, full of back chat and even dyed her hair brown a month ago. Brown? I did explain how much I pay to try and create her colour on my hair but she wasn’t listening. She was fun in Antigua, without Facebook and her mobile phone, which we banished for the holiday. She, Lydia and Luke spent two days driving around in a golf buggy on the domaine, with their iPod blaring, scaring all the locals and giving lifts to old ladies at the supermarket just so they could hare around. I had one lift with Liv driving at 30 mph (you are supposed to be 21 to drive them so they got banned by the rental guy on the second day for being so crazy) and that was enough for me!

Spoke to a party panner friend today about a feature I am writing for The French Paper on this year's Cannes Film Festival. She told me she is planning some great parties with major league celebs and films and I'm on the list! It's days like today when I really love my job. Particularly when you are on your hands and knees in your sweaty running gear (I was too cold to change or shower - gross I know) painting the floor of the loo and you get an email about a job with Elle Macpherson in Malaysia! Bring it on.....although I will not be wearing a bikini on a sunbed next to The Body, for sure.......