No sooner does a month start than blow me down, it’s already gone. I really can’t remember time passing this quick as a child - I mean, Christmas took forever to arrive, as did my birthday, though I can’t say the same thing for dentist appointments as they always did seem to come round faster than a speeding bullet . . .

Today I’m back working on the website but plan to go to Grasse tomorrow morning to visit their market as I continue my exploration of all the local markets here on the French Riviera. This research has proved most rewarding (foodwise) as I’ve come across the most wonderful “flat” peaches. Just over an inch in height they are really dinky and, well, flat. And very tasty too which is why I don’t have a photograph of them as I ate the lot on my way home yesterday. However, I promise to rectify this error and will post some flat peach photos on my blog as soon as I have them. 

And so, here we are, the end of June and summer has arrived - as has a super frog in my pond. As you can imagine, I am over the moon with his appearance and of course, took several photos of him while this dear little chap sunbathed happily on some pond lily leaves. Only later, after looking him up in my wildlife book, did I discover he’s known as the “edible” frog (as opposed to the pool or marsh frog) which is possibly why he landed in our garden as opposed to that of our French neighbours. Mind you, all the mint growing in our garden is a dead giveaway as to our nationality so he was on a winner with that.

Delighted at the sterling progress I’ve made with the restructuring of AMB Cote d’Azur, I thought it was high-time I took time out from bashing away at my keyboard and went off to do some research instead. One of the new features for the website is going to be “Markets” and while nearly everybody has heard about the brilliant ones in Nice and Cannes, I thought it would be fun to visit each village along the French Riviera and write about their market too.

Yesterday I started with Mouans-Sartoux and today was the turn of Valbonne. There is something absolutely wonderful about French markets, not just their hustle and bustle, scents and aromas, but the way the vendors are so proud of their produce and go out of their way to make them attractive to buy. These vendors are the life and soul of the markets and enjoy enticing you with their fare: slivers of salami, slices of cheese or dices of fruit. Their laughter, good nature and wonderful banter only go to make these markets that much more entertaining.

Next week I plan on visiting a few more and, with camera in tow and my old side-kick Freddy with me on my adventures, I’m greatly looking forward to my series of outings. At this time of year the market stalls are simply brimming with wonderful summer produce: peaches, cherries, tomatoes, apricots, artichauts, strawberries, asparagus; in fact, at present, the list in endless.

While some markets seem to put the accent more on locally grown produce, others prefer to have clothes, shoes, provencal linen and tableware as their main attraction. But something they all have in common is Socca; and though Socca from Nice is by far the most famous, you’ll find a Socca vendor in each and every market place. Socca is made on a large round copper “pie tin” and cooked in a very hot wood-fired oven for about six minutes until the top is golden. I am not a great fan of Socca and to be honest, I’ve not met anyone who is (the recipe is very bland made as it is with chick-pea flour, water, olive oil, and a smidgen of salt and pepper) until, that is, this weekend. Nigel’s brother has been staying with us and, while out and about in St Tropez, ate his first ever Socca - and loved it. Mind you, he was visiting an outstanding magical place and anything there is going to be fantastic!

On a different note, it seems that the first forest fire occurred yesterday in the Var (we’re in the Alpes-Maritimes and quite safe) causing a fair bit of damage. While the UK may be experiencing extraordinary deluges of rain, we’ve been blessed with wonderful, hot weather. Forest fires (and their prevention) are taken very seriously here and bonfires have been prohibited since the beginning of May and our band of council men have been past strimming the roadsides and cutting back any dead wood. As the forecast is continued hot weather such precautions are wise.

Last week a very good friend of mine from the UK came down to visit us. Ineke does all my proof-reading and, as I draw ever nearer to having the AMB website restructured, I asked if she’d like to pop down so we could put the new website through its paces. Thankfully Ineke was most impressed with the new layout and features which led me to believe that I was on the right track and that now was the right time to restructure the entire website. However, like me, she did notice something quite obvious: I’m fast running out of adjectives to describe the French Riviera: beautiful, charming, stunning panorama, gorgeous, lovely, amazing and magical appear with frightening regularity. Yet as I explained to Ineke “How do you best describe paradise?” and with so many more towns and villages to write about, my Thesaurus is going to be well-thumbed.

Actually, these past few months have been rather interesting as I’ve had somewhat of a journey down memory lane when reading my old articles and remembering my feelings when visiting a particular town or little perched village for the first time. While many of my original impressions remain I’ve had to revise a few as, a couple of years later, I’ve come to appreciate places I didn’t “click” with straight away. Much like good wine, I now realize I need to wait a while to let all my impressions mature and filter through before hammering away at my keyboard. 

However, only now do I realize that this insight was actually brought home to me by a tiny sparrow a couple of weeks ago in a place I certainly would classify as paradise. One wonderful, sunny afternoon I was invited to share afternoon tea on the terrace of the Grand Hotel du Cap Ferrat. Sitting there with beauty all around me I noticed a small house sparrow perched quite happily on one of the tables opposite me, perfectly at ease and enjoying the moment as if he had all the time in the world.

The moral of the story? Well, at their peak in the early 1970s, there were an estimated 25 million house sparrows breeding in Britain. The number is now closer to 13 million. The question raised by many UK ornithologists is “Where have all the house sparrows gone?”. I can now answer their question . . . they are happily living and breeding on the Cote d’Azur and enjoying a sunny day in paradise. Wouldn’t you?