Monaco Dreamin'

This time four years ago I was in Monte Carlo, in full sunshine 30 degree heat, looking out over the harbour's sparkling waters, having my eardrums blasted to smithereens by the roar of 22 F1 cars screaming past at 180mph while trying desperately to stay awake after about three hours sleep the night before, and four hours the night before that.

Ahh, memories.

Go to Monaco if you ever can. For the Grand Prix if possible. It's the only race of the season with any glamour left to it. It's tacky and brash and shiny and expensive, and a diet Coke will cost you anything from a fiver to fifty quid (and that was four years ago), and everywhere in the whole freaking country is on a 90% incline, but it's fabulous, really fabulous.