Hunks and cheesecake

Spent the day showing father-in-law around the hinterland of Antibes. First stop was the school where the BH works. Then off to Valbonne village for lunch outside in the square. Today, the restaurants shared the worn marble flagstones with an antiques and bric à brac market, so the tables were pretty close together.

I got the impression the main language of the customers was Dutch, though whether the speakers were from the Netherlands or Belgium was not clear, at least to me. Whatever they were, they looked prosperous, had serious appetites, and behaved as if they owned the place. Maybe they do... But, dear me, they could have afforded to lose a kilo or two.

As if to counterbalance, in another corner sat the beautiful people, in studied poses: the men distinguished by their blow dried, expensive rasor cut hair dos and the women by the subtle botox and lip enhancements. Both sexes had had face-liftings and frightened the life out of me when they opened their mouths wide to reveal perfect, but slightly too large teeth. The chiselled features of these narcissists are quite disturbing in the flesh: as drawings they would be handsome, but as supposedly real people, the symmetry has something unheimlich about it.