Salut!

Hail the lingering allure of St Tropez

A return to St Tropez after many months brought more than the sodden shoes and clothing that a sharp downpour - rain, yes, but also hailstones in sufficient quantity to form little heaps in corners of the beaches and side streets - made inevitable.

Every season in a day at St Tropez

We had menacing dark clouds, a short but spectacular thunderstorm that brought hailstones as well as rain, a gentle breeze and bright, warm sunshine.

All in a day's weather at St Tropez.

Expat life: fair stood the wind for France

The lure of Provence proved too strong. Back in the south of France after a chilly London winter, I found the house in one piece, the Var looking lovely, Sarko's marriage treated much less pruriently in the French press - and a chilly early spring ...

Only the UAE’s most organised residents could claim never to have boarded a flight out of the country, or back into it, while inappropriately dressed for the conditions likely to be encountered at the other end.

Of course no one in their right mind leaves Abu Dhabi or Dubai, bound for wintry northern Europe or North America in short sleeves or paper-thin trousers. But the differences in temperature test the tidiest of minds when it comes to deciding how many layers of clothing to wear, or to pack in cabin bags.

It also happens on journeys that do not even involve changing continent. The road from London to the shores of the Mediterranean takes me past two points I regard as natural weather frontiers: the English Channel and the city of Lyon. Yes, I have seen torrential rain in Normandy, floods in the Loire and Burgundy and snow on, of all roads, the Autoroute du Soleil. But these are exceptions that prove my rule that the farther south you go, the better it gets.

Expat life: "Hi, press office here, is there anything we can't do for you?"

What is a press officer for? What do public relations people do? Forgive me for asking ...

Imagine the guffaws if an estate agent appealed for sympathy because some of his more overpriced properties attracted no buyers or tenants.

And what would be the natural response to a used-car dealer’s bleatings about a lack of buyers for rusty old bangers?

Expat life: diminished mobility

Getting on, but not getting there. Familiar ground for readers of recent items at Salut! and Salut! Sunderland, but I couldn't resist another look - posted during another long wait for a simple job on my car at Renault - at recent transport woes ...

As the passing of years accelerates, certain advantages appear. Even though I can still dart around a badminton court to moderately useful effect, and become as excited at football games as a schoolboy, I also qualify in the UK for “senior” travel passes.

That means free bus and Tube travel in London and discounts for nationwide rail travel that often mean a first-class seat, with free access to the internet, is hardly more expensive than second.

My French bolthole: a very old farm with heaps of charm (5)

My friend Emma Lee-Potter continues the story of her mission to restore a dilapidated French farmhouse. Will she eventually get to spend a whole night there - let alone tuck herself away to write the bestseller? It's slowly beginning to look more likely ...

Slowly, slowly, the ugly duckling is turning into a swan. Three years after I made the most impetuous decision of my life and bought a ramshackle farmhouse in the south of France without really meaning to, the place is starting to look like home. There’s no kitchen, no bathroom and we haven’t even slept a night there yet, but it feels like ours at last.

Windmills and Wilders: a menace to society or just another windbag?

How concerned should we be that Geert Wilders's cleverly named Party for Freedom (PVV) made strong showings in Dutch local elections last week, actually becoming the largest party in the city of Almere?

Grand Central Stationary (2)

As implied by Salut!'s earlier article on the subject, the introduction of Grand Central's service between London and Sunderland was a thoroughly welcome addition to the national rail network (even if it also draws inconvenient attention to the awfulness of Sunderland Central as a main line terminus).

I have used it several times, both first and second class. As reliability, shaky at first, has improved, the service has become one I would heartily recommend - and of course, away supporters can usually count on a point or three at the other end.

So I am delighted to be able to publish the the company's prompt response to my pieces, here and at Salut! Sunderland, on the events of last night.

Grand Central Stationary (1)

The run of boyhood bad luck that made me a Sunderland supporter has spread to the Grand Central train company.

Just when I was thinking of writing something about how much I appreciated the direct service between that that far-off northern destination and London, I ended up being stuck with 100s of other hapless travellers for more than three hours in the gloom of a Hertfordshire Sunday evening.