It’s called the Parc du Château. But there is no Château. It was destroyed by its own worst enemy, i.e. the French themselves.

It was a citadel, a military bastion the origins of which started in the 11th century. In the 18th century it was owned by the Italian House of Savoy. The French took it back in 1705 and Louis XIV saw fit to destroy the castle the following year. The Château now is simply a seaside bosse, a rocky outcrop that separates the Port from the Baie des Anges, strewn with ancient relics to distract from the 360 degree panorama. It’s where tourists flock for a higher view of Nissa la Bella. Strategic voyeurism in a place previously used for military defence.

The canon was started to signal lunch time, an essential part of French daily life. But the canon was not initiated by a Frenchman.

A Scotsman, Lord Coventry to be precise, started what is now a strictly-adhered to niçois tradition. The Scottish Lord wanted to remind his wife that it was time to stop walking the promenade and eat. We like to think he was just adapting his Belle Epoque, winter staycation to the French mode de vie. The locals didn’t need a canon, and they still don’t. The lunch break is a national culture - shops close, streets empty and brasseries hustle and bustle. It has has evolved as part of the population’s DNA over centuries. But in Nissa La Bella the canon tradition stuck.

So no chateaux and a French tradition reinvented by a Scotsman. At least there is still the canon and its almighty boom across the bay. Rolled out each day by the modern-day military, stoked and fired on the tick of the last of the morning tocks to tell everyone it’s time to manger. Men of discipline, trained in armed combat and fitted out in crisp suits, proudly carrying on a centuries-old tradition.

But there is no canon.

Philippe is a licensed fireworks expert. He wears trainers, jeans and a t-shirt and he has a friendly and familiar air about him. He’s more than happy to welcome us to firing of the canon. The police were responsible for the firing of the ‘canon’ up until 1992 when new legislation required certified pyrotechnics expert to be in charge. Enter Phillipe. The cannon is four launch tubes with a trigger wire, set-off by one of those square batteries you used to put in your remote control car. One single firework is projected into the air before banging like thunder.

Since he started, Philippe has only missed the midday firing twice. Once because of an accident blocking the road, once because he got stuck in between protesting civil servants in Place Garibaldi, just below the château. He's been known to set it off an hour early on April Fool's Day.

We take Philippe a Pan Bagnat, the specialist niçois sandwich (think of it effectively as a niçoise salad in a bread roll, drenched in olive oil) and we eat it amongst the tourists beside the Bellanda Tower that overlooks the Promenade des Anglais. They are totally unaware this is the man that just made them jump. And he's about to retire. That's sad but he assures 100% us the canon will still fire. How is he so sure? His daughter will replace him.

Details like the lunchtime canon are what make Nissa niçois. The new Eglantine jersey proudly wears the Nissa La Bella badge on its sleeve.

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