Well, April is here already, so it’s very much about time to update the blog…
Last time I wrote I was just about to head for Midem in Cannes, and my wonderful new website wasn’t up yet, so it seemed like a good idea to put a review of 2006 on the blog just so people could get an idea of who I am and what I do.
Well, version 1 of the proper website is up now, so let’s move on!
Midem. This was my first visit, actually. Quite a lot of my work comes from the music business, (not least from these handsome people - Invisible Hands Music - great people, great music) probably a natural flow from my own shady past in bands, and of course I’m now pushing out into Europe, having made a nest for myself in Prague. So an event where all the key players in the European music industry come together in one place seems like a good place to be.
But I also wanted to get back to Prague as soon as I could, so could I dog-leg it? It seemed dumb to fly there, fly back and then get a train from one London airport to another to then fly back across Europe to Prague. What about London – Nice – Prague?
Nope can’t be done.
Ok, what about a train? Sure. You can get a single to Cannes for £160-odd, and then… you’re on your own again. Because no-one will book trains in advance through Italy (something to do with their ability to submit timetables to tour operators far enough in advance. No real surprises there.) Time was marching on, I had three days to organise tickets, but I was determined this could be done in style. And then – of course – the discovery that, if you book a return to Cannes, the whole ticket is over £50 cheaper than a single. Result. And it means that if you book the return half a way ahead (why not three months?) you can come back again. Double result.
That would get me there. And from there I could take my chances.
So I set out one sunny Waterloo morning for the south of France. Smoothly through south east England, under the Channel, and- bloody hell! I’d never been on the Eurostar before – done TGV and the like, and used to that, but – doesn’t it shift!! I have never in my life felt train sick before…
Easily across Paris to Gare du Lyon, and a pleasant journey through the rest of France at a more leisurely 168mph. This is what I was after. A sense of travel. Just wish I could open the windows like I used to. There’s nothing like the smell of the wild herbs that lets you know you’re arriving somewhere special.
Cannes is… Cannes. And my hotel… wasn’t, it turns out. A forty euro cab ride later I realise that the morning stroll to the exhibition centre, croissant and take-away café-au-lait in hand, (Monsieur Flanneur a toi, matey) might not be en le menu. (This Cannes hotel is, for example, one of the many that weren't mine.)
And it was cold. Then it got really cold. The days passed; meetings happened, and I forced myself to walk up to complete strangers on a minute by minute basis. Are you shy? Come with me next year, and I will cure you. I may possibly have cured myself in those few days. I kept reciting my mantra: these people are here for the same reason I am. They want to meet me.
And you know what? They did. It was totally unlike any business gathering of thousands of people I’ve ever experienced. The enthusiasm for each other’s enterprises, the excitement about developments… these were people for whom music is not the soundtrack to their lives; their lives are the accompaniment to the music. I drank huge amounts of coffee, slept almost never and felt completely at home.
And then home. My French is rudimentary, to say the least (in fact saying the least is my best option). Could I now organise a train trip across four countries? Pas de probleme, mon petit choufleur. Done in ten minutes. Why am I telling you all this? Because you owe it to yourself to do this. It’s easy and it’s cheap. And you feel like you’re actually travelling.
Overnight train from Nice to Venice. Nice bunk. Seventy euros. A day wandering the (now perishingly freezing) streets of Venice, lots of lovely homecoming gifts, and then a cabin all to myself on the direct sleeper from Venice to Prague, again seventy euros. And that included coffee and some light breakfast.
And even if you can’t open the damn windows, you can still take pictures like this.
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