Cap Ferrat

The other reason for going to St Jean Cap Ferrat was to do the circular walk around the peninsula.

The directions in the guidebook said to park down in the carpark at the port - easier said than done, given the number of tourists clogging the place. Finally, some distance beyond the port de plaisance, in amongst the cranes, rust and detritus of the shipyards, we found a place, needing a ticket even on the most bank holiday of bank holiday days in France, the first of May. From there we followed the vague instructions to an abandoned quarry, and the beginning of the coastal footpath.

The first part of the footpath was along a cement road, next to the water. Why such engineering works just for the odd pedestrian? We soon found out. All the peninsula is covered by luxury villas, and the cement walkway was the visible roof of an enormous ring drain collecting the assorted effluvia of the rich. To be honest, the smells wafting up from the vents resembled those from the drains of the less affluent.

Everywhere we walked, it was between a sullen gray sea and high walls and razor wire. The rich are clearly very, very frightened of the rest of us. Whilst on the one hand it felt bad to be excluded from natural beauty, on the other it felt good to think that the rich were like prisoners, of their own barbed wire and their own phobias.

Along the way we kept on crossing hiking clubs from Italy, audible from a great distance because of the constant chatter and gossip. Clearly these people were glad of each other's company and were having a good time. We got a chorus of "grazie" when the BH took their photo for them, after a warning as to whether they were "pronti".

Further round the cape, after the lighthouse, the path became narrow, with a mostly unprotected drop into the sea or onto the rocks far below. Despite the scenery, I was unable to concentrate on anything except getting through the exposed bits. It was fear of heights time with a vengeance.

The return was over the neck of the isthmus. When we got back to the car to dump our rucksacks, there was a raucous sound of unfamiliar birds. We looked up. The palm trees were full of small parrots, about the size of big budgies, with green bodies and red heads. They were feasting on the dates.