Nice has talent

Talent is a much overused word but just occasionally someone comes along oozing with it and you can't help taking notice. I was working earlier on a feature (Jessica Szohr from Gossip Girl, who didn't have much gossip at all) when Livvy told me to come and have a look at someone on YouTube. Usually it involves watching a dog do tricks or a gang of wedding guests performing Thriller, none of which are particularly scintillating. I politely feign interest for about 30 seconds before switching off.

Today was different. Leroy (not his real name) is an 18yo Spanish guy who goes to ISN and has made his own channel on YouTube where he performs cover versions from The Script, Chris Brown, Beyonce, Kings of Leon and so on. He plays guitar and sings and I spent ten minutes watching him. He is nothing short of brilliant, the whole package, and one of his songs, Jason Mraz's Lucky which he sings simultaneously with a girl he has never met before via webcam is phenomenal. I sent him an email wishing him luck and pasted the link to my friend Amanda who works with Simon Cowell and is married to Chris, a great music boss and producer in the UK. She came straight back to me saying: 'He's fabulous, have sent it to the producer and God.' (That's Simon.)

So watch this space to see what happens next. Or click on www.youtube.com/superleroyvv and see what all the fuss is about. He is going places.

Onto Issy's party last week. She's now 11 going on 25. She has a new Blackberry, which is her first ever phone and smarter than mine. I have the worst phone out of the entire family, but as I can barely use three functions on it..calling people, sending an email and texting...it doesn't really matter. She sends me things like 'Hi mum, I'm up.' Sweet. But never seems to have it on her when I try and call her. Somehow she has already used up her monthly forfait in the space of 10 days.

She and seven friends camped in the garden on her birthday. They were still awake at 1am telling each other ghost stories and I was woken up at 6am by lots of shrieking and giggling. Thank God there are no neighbours to hear them. Cue lots of jaded faces by noon when they all reluctantly trooped home after gorging on chocolate brownie cake, lemon cake and an amazing chocolate heart inscribed by Issy's friend Manon.When I asked if she made it herself she said; 'Non, c'etait mon patissier.'

Her parents have just bought the Hostellerie du Chateau in the village, a gorgeous old hotel and restaurant which we have loved since before we moved here but which has suffered from being off the beaten track and never been properly marketed. That's changing now and word is they are going for a Michelin star, having owned restaurants in Dijon and Aix-en-Provence. Issy is full of stories about how she calls a special number from her room to order strawberries in chantilly and nutella at 11pm and gets them delivered by room service!

Last week Manon came for lunch during school and I gave them turkey sandwiches, crisps and some raw carrot sticks. She raved to Issy about how amazing the food was, saying: 'I never get food like this, I usually get risotto or boeuf bourgignon for lunch!' When Issy went there a few days ago for lunch, they had a table for two in the restaurant (where supper is 59 euros a head for the set menu!) and enjoyed a three course meal, starting with feuillete of mozzarella and tomatoes, then fillet of beef followed by a fresh berry dessert. Thank God she didn't have to pay the bill!

A Gleeful week

The last two months have been my busiest since moving to France. It all kicked off with Malaysia and Elle Mac then came the Cannes Film Festival and last week was the Monaco TV Festival. Even the train journey, hugging the coast from Nice to Monte-Carlo, is enjoyable, particularly if you sit on the right and soak up the views. Am halfway through The God of Small Things but couldn’t bring myself to read when I could look out of the window and daydream instead.

I interviewed the lovely Julie Walters, above, who is always such good value. She was making me laugh about getting older, why she is proud to be grey and why she won’t even go there on cosmetic surgery or botox, hurray for that. She looks phenomenal, mainly because she is completely natural and funny and convinced me that 60 might not be so bad after all.

But the highlight of the festival has to be meeting Jane Lynch, aka Sue Sylvester in Glee. You have got to love a woman whose favourite quip on screen is: ‘I’m going to get a diaper for your chin because it looks like a baby’s ass!’ I LOVE that show and I love Sue/Jane so I didn’t shut up and thankfully nor did she. Coming to Hello magazine on a newsstand near you very soon – in fact this week!

Going back to being busy after a long honeymoon with France, it is really good to be firing on all cylinders again. I forgot how much I enjoy being busy. I definitely needed a period of go-slow to adjust to a new country, language and way of life and however much the girls are independent and to a large extent off my hands now, I think they have appreciated me being around a lot more.

I used to be so jealous of my ladies-that-lunch friends in Brookie Park with their tennis, manicures and of course the long Friday lunches. They were always jealous of me, rushing off to interviews, spending half my life in airports and meeting extraordinary people in far flung corners of the earth..and maybe not so jealous of the hours spent sitting hunched over my PC in my office til God knows what time writing it all up and the hours on the phone and email setting everything up. The grass is always greener but having had ample time to do that pool thing, lunch and tennis, I finally realised what I secretly knew all along – that life isn’t for me. Well, in small doses but with plenty of work tucked around the edges. Iain is secretly relieved too!

The only downside is I have been so busy that I haven’t had a chance to potter around in the garden. After two years here (hard to believe) I found a cherry tree in the garden the other day. I had a suspicion it was a cherry tree last year when I kept finding squashed red berries all over the windscreen of the car but none of us were brave enough to risk being poisoned by a possibly toxic yet innocuous looking berry when we didn’t even know how to call an ambulance. So I asked Rosine next door and she laughed her head off when I told her that we had all been too nervous to eat one. I picked loads and they are lovely, all the tastier for being straight from the garden with no fertiliser, pesticide or any other muck on them.

Had several calls in the last few days following the floods in the Var that have tragically killed over 20 people this week. The storms have been terrible and everyone is worried that we have been washed down the hillside but the advantage of buying a house that has been underpinned is that it ain’t going anywhere! We’ve had torrential rain in the last few days, interspersed with hot,hot sunshine (which just means the grass grows like mad and Iain has to strim twice as often.) Very peculiar for June.

As if to invite even more rain into our lives, I have just booked tickets to the Big Chill at Eastnor Castle in August. Lily Allen, Plan B, Gilles Peterson, Massive Attack and MIA are playing amongst others and it will be the girls’ first music festival. Makes up for me not doing Glastonbury and we are all dead excited! We are camping while Norma and Tony stay in a four star hotel down the road. I have tried to explain to N&T that room service and an en suite is not what festivals are about when you can have a portaloo and a warm beer instead but they are having none of it, citing ‘bad backs.’ Have a feeling we will have all four girls in with us while they have a ‘romantic weekend’ a deux. Which is fine. I am packing shorts, wellies, bikinis, hoodies and a cooler full of wine so we will be prepared whatever happens.

The only downer has been the news this week that Liv has to redouble (to non-French students, that means retake the last year.) She is utterly devastated. We wrote an appel last night and have to go to Nice next Thursday – Issy’s birthday unfortunately – to fight our corner. I don’t think it is a bad thing and even she is coming round to the idea that she will at least fly through the next year instead of struggling but like her competitive mum, she hates losing and really wants to stay with her peer group and her best friends who all mean the world to her. I think Lily is as devastated as she is. It’s heartbreaking to hear your firstborn weeping down the phone unable to even speak. So, we will appeal and give it our best shot and if that fails, she has to stay back. She has one friend in the year below who is thrilled at having his mate back in the same class and I have to believe that it might not be so terrible for her, especially as she is 15 going on 25 right now!

Just as I was content to settle into a period of house renovation, early nights and family suppers after the social whirl of the last two months, Sarah calls to say that it is Cannes Lions advertising festival next week, and she is coming over with Bex and has put us on the guest lists for all the coolest parties. My Dr Sebagh Youth Serum will be tested to the core once again and I have told Iain I have no choice but to fit in two parties a night as it will be the perfect networking opportunity...sadly his response was unprintable dear reader, but it was along the lines of ‘You poor love, of course I’m happy to cook for the children, walk the dogs and hold the fort here while you make new business contacts at the Majestic, Palais Stephanie and all those other boring beach parties!’

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.....