It's You, Ron, Ron

July 19, 1982 and I'm on the Promenade des Anglais in Nice, watching the carnival disgorge all of the floats, the samba rhythms and the masses of flowers. They call it the Bataille des Fleurs - a tradition that goes back to 1876 and the locals are evidently keen. Me, I'm signed up to a summer school in the University, learning a bit of French but mostly alive to the bold prerogative of youth.

We're staying in college dorms and our floor has bonded into an enthusiastic mass, from Portland and Montreal, Iceland, Sweden and Armenia. We party on the beach and collectively look forward to the arrival of the Rolling Stones at the Parc Des Sports De L'Ouest, July 20.

Which is why we are on the sea front during the carnival. We are casing out the grand hotels for evidence of the Stones and our best hunch is that some of them will be staying at the Negresco. Occasionally we sneak into the opulent foyer, but the officials know that we're too scruffy and excitable to be guests.

Just as the carnival starts to peak, a funky old window opens on the second floor. And a familiar profile is revealed in the Mediterranean night. Yes, it's Ronnie Wood, sidekick to Keith 'n' Mick and former cohort to Rod Stewart and the Faces. The hair is buoyant and spikey, the nose is regal and of course there is a ciggy on the bottom lip. He looks happy to be there.

Over the next hour, various members of the Wood family peek out at the procession. There's Ronnie's wife Jo and a few of the kids. Ronnie knows that a significant percentage of the crowd is now watching their own personal performance. And so Ronnie appears with a series of props, drinks and a shiny trumpet that he tries to blow a tune on.

The carnival now means little to us. We have found ourselves an actual Rolling Stone and he's playing a tune for us, albeit badly. Result.

The following day and we'll make our way early to the gig. With a ridiculous stroke of luck, we'll be taken on as temporary stage crew for the show. Hey, another story for another day...