Cannes 2017: Day 1

Last year, our arrival in Cannes was our first official day because we LEFT SO GODDAMN EARLY and arrived for a full onslaught of activity. This year, it’s a lot more respectable as I pick up Tim at 9.30am and make a leisurely drive to Gatwick, hitting the North Terminal car park at around 12pm. We sail through security and are sitting down for a Jamie Oliver Full English Breakfast by about 12.30pm. We know how to work.

Check in and boarding seems effortlessly efficient until we stall on takeoff which delays us for about 30mins. No matter, as I’m happy to crack on writing a new spec TV script which features a dog character called Dash. Half through the flight, I notice the woman next to me slightly reading over my shoulder, and she orders a stiff drink from the attendant. After she squiffs her booze, she nudges me and says: ‘My name is Dash’. She’s slightly freaked out reading about her life as a dog, or something. Tim and I laugh it up, seeing it as good karma for the script.

We arrive in Cannes and hook up with acting supremos James Bowden and Laura Roxburgh from Dorset School of Acting. They were on our flight and so we share a cab into the heart of Cannes to find our respective apartment abodes. Our flat is an expansive treat (its official name is the Winter Palace!). (We even did a lame Facebook Live video of this momentous occasion.) We find the local supermarche (ahem, the Casino Supermarche, although there’s no actual casino, #sadface) to get some basics in.  Then we stroll down the Rue D’Antibes like a couple of hip locals and find the Warner Cafe where we’ve arranged to meet James Newton, director of 2:Hrs the new live-action family film that’s coming soon (and we helped out a little bit).

Apres dinner, we head to the Petit Majestic for a sneaky, and promptly bump into another Bournemouth ex-pat: Deniz Erel. I first met Deniz when he was a filmmaking student in AUB and he did some research for me and Tim prior to us making Nelson Nutmeg in 2013. He’s now working for a sales agent working out of Cologne. I’ve had a couple of strong beers at dinner so I’m pleased that I (a) recognise Deniz and (b) remember his name. Hey, I’m old.

We don’t hang about too long at Petit Majestic, deciding to go home to prep for the day of meetings that await us. But we’ve stocked up on some snacks and supplies so we have a cheeky nightcap and debrief in the flat and call it a day. Roll on day 2.


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