Heading to Cannes, don’t forget to pack WHEN LIFE GOES POP!

Saturday, 11 May 2013

From boring, everyday existence Poppy arrives in Cannes, the most glamorous film festival in the world. 
And you can join her.
And you don't even have to pay for an air-ticket. 
Go on, click that button, treat yourself, you know you deserve it.

And if you need further encouragement, how about a free snippet.

We arrive at the peripheries of the star-studded gathering. Both of us have fixated grins, the type only ever seen in The Stepford Wives. Yes, we’re that bad. For some reason Paige continues to talk like a ventriloquist.
‘Don’t glower, just be nonchalant.’
I look at her in disbelief; a bubbling desire to giggle has started in my stomach. I cough inadvertently and make the strangest noise. It’s no good, my bodily functions are overrun with giggles.
‘What the hell?’ Paige looks at me with annoyance, her face still suffering from degenerate rigor mortis.
‘Frog … in throat!’ I can’t catch my breath.
COUGH … COUGH … Splutter … panicked gulps. COUGH … COUGH.
My eyes and nose start streaming, my make-up starts to run. Oh shit!
The shock of a hand hitting the middle of my back stops my coughing fit.
What the ...?
I look at Paige and she is staring at me in horror. I dab my eyes with my fingers and turn around. The hand is attached to a man who, in my estimation, in my three-inch heels, must be six foot two or three. I can’t see or read his expression, too much beardy hair in the way.
‘Thanks, you could have dislodged an elephant’s tusk with that slap!’
He gives me the once-over and just raises his eyebrows and says nothing.
I stare at him, feeling somewhat irritated and exhilarated at the same time. 

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