How to paint, sleep (and nearly die) like Cézanne
I knew we were in trouble when I opened the car door and brown water started flooded in.
‘Shut the door!’ shouted Vanessa.
“Mon Dieu, Mon Dieu!” muttered our French driver, holding her head in her hands.
The car had stalled.
The small country road we had driven along in brilliant sunshine only a few short hours ago was now a raging torrent of water.
I tried the electric windows, no power.
We were trapped.
I saw the water was rising quickly, it was now half way up the car door.
I started to panic.
We were in Provence (just last month) on the trail of Cézanne’s studio, and our idyllic country retreat was rapidly turning into a disaster…