Phillip Bergson

My arrival in Cannes was unusually smooth, having found- only days before travelling- a return flight on British Airways that was somehow cheaper in sogenannt Club Europe than in Economy Class (albeit it to and from Gatwick- where the only BA lounge still open after 3pm was surprisingly well-stocked).

After the usual diplomatically-ignored delays, we arrived more or less on time, on the eve of the festival, and although Nice Airport's carousel threatened a 57 minute wait for my luggage, they landed quicker than my exchanges with a Jane Campion-lookalike, and I managed to wade through the multi-tongued hordes to board- for the first time- the local bus to Cannes.

It was so packed with cases and festivaliers sitting on each other that I expected to hear Jamie Lee Curtis screaming, and it did stop at every possible bus arret between Terminal 1 and its Final Destination in Cannes, but for a 90 minute ride the fare of !.50 euros was truly a bargain.

And as the palms of the peripherique hove in to view I realised that it would stop literally around the corner from my own Hotel berth, again a last-minute offer, in the lovely Lutetia.

For my return I took the more comfortable, and vastly more expensive Airport Express, as I was able to board even closer to my hotel, and so did not resent too much having to cross the driver's palm with 20 euros.The usual British Airways version of "Yes it is on time, no suddenly there is a 30 minute delay" was of course played out in the rather tackier Rivera Lounge, which was well fuelled with madeleines but curiously devoid of champagne and had only a sprinkling of reading material.

I should draw a veil over the afternoon tea that was served in Club Europe (it was in fact a British Midland aeroplane and suddenly the proliferation of all these subsidiary services from Gatwick began to make sense- in spite of the delays in boarding we did land in time and both my cases were safely and promptly delivered).

I realised then how many places in Cannes--whether old familiar cafes bars hotels-had similarly been renamed or rebranded, as part of corporate takeovers, or simply in an attempt,akin to the mangling of language in Animal Farm, to make you think some venue has been transformed as if by magic, when if it was simply translated,you would realise it was the same old tat of yesteryear.

Phillip Bergson