Rain Hasn't Quite Stopped Play

I knew that the weather wasn't expected to be great during my trip to Cannes but I was lulled into a sense of false security by the gorgeousness of Thursday afternoon. Yesterday, though, I woke up to rain and wind, although it was still fairly warm. Film festival-related activities for non-ticket-holders aren't much fun in the rain and as a result, I had a rather de-CaFF-einated day. Of course, it's still fun to go for a morning run along the Croisette while the town wakes up, with women in fancy dresses and men in black tie, nursing hangovers, slink back to their hotel rooms after screenings, desperately seeking darkness.

I did a little window shopping on the rue d'Antibes and, seizing a rare moment of sunshine, sat on the Croisette with a baguette and an éclair and soaked up the buzz. Near the Martinez, there is a little stage where last year I saw Jessie J sing a few numbers (not being particularly down with the kids, I didn't know who she was). This year, on Thursday, it was LMFAO's turn, although I wasn't convinced it was really them (it was a tiny stage and they seemed to perform their most famous number, Sexy and I Know It, several times but apparently it was. Now I wish I had taken some photos. Ah well. I didn't recognise the band who was playing yesterday--they sounded French. How very dare they.

Spotted on the rue d'Antibes

Eventually, the sun came out and we went down to the rocks near the beach to watch the Croisette come to life for the evening and to listen to more random French dance music. It looks like Pete Doherty, Asia Argento and Bérénice Bejo, among others, will be there tonight. The one thing the weather can't spoil is eating delicious, rotisserie chicken with homemade mash and baguette on the (covered part of) the terrace in my parents' flat.

My kingdom for a ticket!

This morning, the weather was even more erratic, not that that stopped the hoards from queuing outside the Palais des Festivals with their brollies, hoping some kind benefactor might take pity on them and give them a ticket to a screening. The London Film Festival is certainly much more of a democracy, and if you can't even guarantee nice weather in Cannes in May, one almost wonders what use it serves. As I complained to the apartment block's guardienne this morning, j'en ai eu assez du mauvais temps. She, of course, replied, C'est le Festival. C'est normal. Indeed.