Airport security Part Eleventy-Three

I have ranted about airport security before. Those of you who know me in person will no doubt have heard repeated iterations of my complaints about the stringent measures we now have to deal with, presumably carefully designed to dehumanise, intimidate and irritate passengers. My doubts about the effectiveness of a process staffed by poorly-paid, under-trained, overworked people, which addresses only part of the risk to the physical security, at best. I suspect, in fact, it makes no practical difference to the risks of flying.

Today, though, I have a constructive suggestion, which would make me feel much safer. I'm willing to go out on a limb and say that it would make you feel safer too. Radical though this may be, how about the security staff spend less time making people throw away sealed bottles of water and coke, and less time groping random people who haven't even set off their insanely sensitive alarms, and more time looking at the x-ray screen that we have to put everything through which is supposed to show up Bad Things?

I know, revolutionary concept. Judging by the behaviour of the people on duty today, it'll never catch on - the woman who was supposed to be checking was turned round talking to her colleague and never even glanced at the screen as my stuff went through, nor the person after me. Just think of all the bottles of water and tubes of handcream I could have hidden in my bag.

But that would have been a security risk. We can't have that.

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Stick men - an international comparison

Today's post is an international comparison of stick people on street signs. An area so far neglected by academic research (I assume - I have to admit I didn't bother checking; if there are actually genuine studies into this that have received funding, I can only say: I see why we now have an economic crisis). It lacks a Monegasque Striding Man, but that will be remedied on my next trip.

We start with Paris:

By the banks of the Seine. A sign that could usefully be posted in every tunnel in France. And most walls. And pretty much anywhere even vaguely sheltered. And parks. And trees.

Next, no diving in Villefranche:

This is, I think, supposed to be a stick man, from Villefranche sur Mer. But it could be a seal. Or a jaguar. It appears to lack a skeleton, amongst other major organs and body parts.

A rare stick child depiction from Prague:

A rare stick life portrait, from Prague, with house and car and stick child playing in the road. They have very small houses in stick-Prague, obviously. And no hands.

Maltese stick man on a boat:

In Malta, stick men apparently throw coffee mugs off ferry boats, if not told not to.

Italian stick men:

This stick man appears to have a dislocated shoulder. And no knees, of course.


This is how stick men walk in Italy. (Compare, when I get the pic up, with how stick men walk in Monaco.)

Traffic light stick men in Nice:

Men wearing hats may cross the road now...


Men wearing hats must stand in the middle of the road. Waiting for cars to drive at them.

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Some Alps

OK, so I'm not going to win photography prizes. But Alps are awesome, when seen from a plane - I love the stark contrasts between peak and valley; you can see where the ice used to be. And now they have snow on, so they're even prettier. So this blog post is all about Alps.

So, this post has a series of photos of some Alps, as taken from my Easyjet flight. You can stop reading now if you don't like mountains. (OK, the first one isn't mountains, it's Nice. But after that, you'll be bored. Don't say I didn't warn you.)

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Photos of Nice at night

Just some pictures this morning - I'm not yet awake enough to write real words. After I've had coffee I might make this post slightly more explanatory.(Or not. The beauty of this blog is its uncertainty, I find...)

Nice, last night, around Place Massena and Cours Saleya. It's clearly nearly Christmas...

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Sunday roast lunch in Nice

This Sunday, I was in a plane at lunchtime, so wasn't able to have a proper  Sunday lunch. Oddly, Easyjet doesn't stretch to Sunday roasts... Oh for the glory days of flying with 5 course meals and people to shine your shoes while you sleep. (Yes, I know my shoes are more often than not flipflops, so shoeshining may be ineffective. I don't want to hear you polluting my dreams with your harsh reality. Hush.)

But for those of you not stuck in a metal box, hurtling through the sky, who happen to be looking for a good Sunday roast in Nice, may I point you in the direction of The Snug. It's an Irish bar, which doesn't often bode well in continental Europe, where "Irish pubs" spring up haphazardly, usually bearing no more resemblance to a real pub except that they both may serve beer. But it's one of the good Irish bars, in that it serves real food, and real pints, and has friendly staff. So I recommend it.

Its website calls The Snug "Nice's only gastropub", which sounds likely, particularly after the sad closure of the Australian pub near the port. I've been there once so far, and plan to go back again, though. On a Sunday if I possibly can, because the lunch was divine.

I should probably say that The Snug haven't paid me for this blogpost, in money, beer, or food. (Though if you're reading this, guys, and feel inspired...) But there aren't many places I can think of in the South of France that do proper Sunday lunches, so I reckon it's worth highlighting them when I find them!

If you've got other suggestions of places I should visit, do let me know in the comments. I am nothing if not willing to sacrifice for my readers and experiment with Sunday roasts...

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Back down south...

God it's beautiful down here!

 Flying in yesterday, it was a sunny day: the sea and sky were bright blue, the trees were green, and the mountain stretching back from the sea were capped with bright white snow. It was gorgeous, and today has started similarly bright and sunny, without a cloud in the sky, and the dark blue sea is stretching out to a clear horizon. Bet you wish you were here!

Today I'm supposed to be NaNoWriMo writing, but if the sun lasts til after that I might go for a walk with my camera. I've still got photos to take off my camera from my last trip down, so the next couple of posts might be more pictures than words. (Especially since I can't count blog posts for NaNoWriMo...)

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