Niceties
It seems that there are times of your life that, although they may last years and years, leave you with a single memory, a solitary sensation.
The four years I spent in Nice are like that. When my mind traces back over that period – at a reluctant gallop in the main – I realise that it was the backdrop for many pivotal moments but… when I think of it in passing, all I feel is a pit of razors in my stomach, and my only clear memory is of being eight months pregnant and battling with toy poodles in crimson faux leather overcoats for a seat on the bus.
And losing.
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