Salut!

Wheels of history: from Ford vans to a Merc in the Buenos Aires ferry port

Since my short report from the mini-motor show at Saint Tropez inspired a wave of nostalgia, let a wider audience take a peek at the past as it has been described elsewhere.

Bill Taylor drew Salut! readers' attention to a piece of his about a car-owning history that began with jalopies including a 1957 Austin A30 and push-start-only Anglia van and was recently updated with the purchase, after a chance encounter in Argentina, of a 2008 Mercedes C300.

Saint Tropez: good, bad and ugly

Most people go to Saint Tropez to gawp at the fancy yachts and, with a bit of luck, a star or two.

They'll always see yachts. If star-spotting draws a blank, they can take a boat trip and listen to the guide pointing out the flashy villas of royalty, business moguls and celebs. Or, as Brigitte Bardot put it when she rattled off an angry little note to the mayor, “shouting my life out into microphones in six languages”.

Boats were not, however, the means of transport taking up a chunk of the sprawling but always busy quayside car park at the weekend.

Car dealers from the along the coast were displaying their shiny wares. For once, the yachts in the harbour took second billing.

My car purchasing career began with a crocked old mini-van, quickly followed by a Hillman Minx with the gear shift on the steering wheel column, a Beetle with flimsily attached running board on one side and a Ford Thames van.

It is so long ago that I forget precise details. But they were all so old and derelict that their purchase prices were probably measured in tens rather than hundreds of pounds.

Many of the cars on display in St Trop had price tags measured in tens of thousands. I am not sure the Rolls-Royce was even for sale. But that sleek BMW sports car would knock you back €61,000+. The Mini Cooper was €42,000.

There were, of course, exceptions, though even this hideous Nissan Cube would cost - if I remember the price accurately - nearly €16,000 ...

Your guess is as good as mine of the next two specimens: this ..

and this ...

Which at least made me feel better about having to climb back into the humble Clio for the journey home.

Marine: Le Pen mightier than the sword of criticism?

We're on the eve of a poll - French local elections and therefore not, of course, a poll in which most readers of Salut! are entitled to vote. But Marine Le Pen is beyond doubt an intriguing political phenomenon. The reason I held back when writing about her the other day was that I had also written about her for The National, Abu Dhabi and the piece had not appeared. Well it's up online now* and will be on the newspaper's pages in the morning. And this is what I had to say, necessarily short on opinion though Salut! regulars will guess at that in any case ...

On a wet and blustery night, latecomers find standing room only as they reach the hall to hear the woman who is, according to taste, a political heroine for modern France or a dangerous xenophobe.

These are, for the most part, Marine Le Pen's admirers, and the new leader of the far-right, anti-immigration Front National (FN) lives up to their expectations.

What if Bormes-les-Mimosas called itself Bormes-les-Acacia-Dealbata?

It just doesn't have the same ring, does it? Another variation might be Bormes-les-Silver-Wattles, which again has a somewhat less romantic feel than Bormes-les-Mimosas.

No wonder M Salut gazes so quizzically at what he always thought was the mimosa tree at the back of his house.

What I know about flowers could be written in capital letters on the back of an old United bus ticket from County Durham and still leave room for the Darlington-Shildon timetable.

But I was mildly curious about this beautiful species that blooms all over Provence in February, so much so that the lovely village of Bormes decided at some point that it would seem lovelier still with the floral suffix. The ubiquitous bright yellow is just now beginning to fade; soon it will disappear altogether for another year.

But is it mimosa at all?

Marine Le Pen: chip off the old block, or making the FN suddenly acceptable?

This is a taster and a question rather than the full Monty.

I will have something to say about my first meeting with the Front National leader who is currently taking French politics by storm, threatening its biggest upheaval since, well, the last one. But my say will have to wait a few days.

A postcard from Saint Tropez and Ramatuelle

The sun came out more strongly than on any day since the return from London, so off we went to Saint Tropez and its neighbouring village of Ramatuelle.

Gainsbourg and Galliano: what drink can do

Two big drinkers in the news: John Galliano and Serge Gainsbourg. You've probably heard most of the stories about them but here are two more ...

There is nothing remotely funny in telling someone they're a dirty Jew who, in an different era, would have been packed off with the whole family to Hitler's gas chambers.

I did suggest, in my piece for The National on John Galliano's appalling behaviour in Paris, that he of all people is a surprise as a Hitler enthusiast, since the Nazis were not that keen on homosexuals and the designer's preferences are well known.

The only complication, as I also noted, is that some historians have suggested the Fuhrer was gay, or bi-sexual.

The splendours of Millau and coming home to a real fire

Farewell, for now, to the White Cliffs of Dover and all that lies behind them.

Le Shuttle is quicker, but the Spirit of Britain has revived my love of ferries. But you knew that already; I just thought it worth mentioning that the first trip encouraged me to use it again.

So we have left behind cold, grey and drizzly London. And arrived back in cold, grey and drizzly Le Lavandou.