Nice For Some

Not so Nice for others.

We got as far as St Tropez (pronounced with a guttural "Twouhpei" if you are the dick-doctor in Nice just not getting it when I said it as "Tropei" over an over and over. The French git! Did I question him about what he was saying when he mispronounced Evan each time? No. Because I am not a French git. That's not to say I don't like French people. Most of them are super-lovely, but this guy was being a total tool about being French ) and now you've probably lost track of where we were before the bracket began, so I'll begin again…

We got as far as St Tropez before Evan's stomach sent us in search of medical opinion, but it was Bastille Day, and that's a public holiday in France, so when we finally had him checked out in a hospital we were told they couldn't know for sure what it was and the radiologist wasn't there because it was a holiday, so we kept going – with some anti-spasmodics to hopefully give him relief.

The next part of the road trip was something I had looked forward to for a very long time. It's a beautiful and dramatic stretch of coastline, I'm sure I've seen it in so many movies. Poor Ev really wasn't up to it though, so we just stopped in one place to grab a few photos.

So pretty in the evening light, clouds milling around after the heat of the day.

As it got darker, we had to stop again at a hospital in Cannes. Yup. Cannes. As in big film festival that attracts film stars and wealth from all over the world. I tell you, folks, I've seen some shitty hospitals in some bowel-of-the-earth kind of places, but none were as bad as this, in this supposed 1st world country, in a supposed 'rich' town. The casualty was chockers. The walls were filthy. The floor had blood spills, the chairs were grimy. Evan felt nauseous (he wasn't alone!), so I took him to the ladies which smelt like the worst men's urinal, and was filthy as well. We waited for about 25mins, but in the end I convinced Evan that whatever was wrong with him, it could only get worse there. That hospital seemed an instant cure for him. He decided we should take him to a hotel to try to sleep off whatever it was he had.

So, we made it to Nice. Set ourselves up for the night at the airport Novotel, and waited to see how he was the next morning.

Next morning he was so bad, I googled for the nearest hospital, left Sonny with the girls and got a taxi with Ev. Turned out to be a much nicer hospital – a children's one, at that. Turned out, too, to be appendicitis, and they whipped it out that afternoon.

I thought we would only be there a couple of days, but the operation wasn't as smooth as it could have been. Poor little guy was so frightened from the experience post-op, and I wasn't allowed to see him for a couple of hours, but imagine how it was for him. 10yrs old, can't speak the language, just had your appendix taken out then you wake up with bad shoulder pain and can't breathe properly – and can't see your Mum, and can't even communicate well. The look of fear in his eyes when I finally did get to see him was awful, and all I wanted to do was cuddle him, but he wouldn't let me near him. It was really horrible to be so helpless in helping him. Next 5 nights were teeny tiny improvements on that. I roomed in with him, and Sonny stayed on in Nice rather than going to Trieste for work, so he could look after the girls.

The only saving grace to seeing my poor boy go through that trauma (aside from brushing up on my French – you get very adept at other languages when you are constantly woken in the middle of the night by a nurse trying to do something to a frightened child and you have to translate between their different needs) was the view at the Fondation Lenval.

This was taken from our room. Even better, Nice airport was just down the end to the right of shot, so we could be plane spotters too, as they flew past at eye level taking off and landing.

So after 5 days, we were allowed to go, but Ev still wasn't fit to travel and needed to see the Dr again for a follow up, so we needed to stay in the area.

Sonny found a hotel for us all called La Versailles. Built in 1960, it had a really cool (but laidback) style to it. We had a big, comfortable room furnished in chocolates and creams and, finally, a huge bath. A arge balcony with a view.

The location, Villefranche Sur Mer, is perfect Cote D'Azur. Surrounded by seafood restaurants and great snorkeling spots.

The 4th floor – entry level at La Versailles.