The moulin at Opio

The commune of Opio starts just behind the Queens Legs running north past the village of Opio itself.  Being a little further to the north it is inevitably a little nearer to the mountains and it is a fact that for every 100 metres above sea level or every kilometre north, house prices drop,  and frenchness increases at a constant ratio, hence by the time you get to the  edge of Chateauneuf there is a distinctly more rustic french feel.  There is an olive windmill between Opio and Chateauneuf called the Moulin De la Brague . From November to February the locals pick their olives and then deliver them to the windmill, and from what I can make out they just recieve some olive oil in return, no money seems to change hands.  It is a very social time for the french which is unusual as they do not seem to socialise like the Brits.  I would love to have some olive trees so that I could go up deliver my olives and chew the cud with the locals over a glass of pastis, however all my trees are almonds.  Talking of pastis, the last time I drank that evil fluid I was quite rightly accused of testiculating (waving ones arms around whilst talking bollocks).  It was at MIDEM a  few years ago with a particularly thirsty client (still a client, so cannot reveal the name, but Toni Marriott, may well know who I mean).  I had left my wife at Rado Plage in Cannes in the company of said anonymous client  after lunch having myself consumed far too much for coherence, but they continued through the afternoon whilst I attempted to work.  I indistinctly recall an altercation with a  taxi driver who was trying to overcharge me and I remember everything I said but it didn’t come out that way.  After much waving of arms and gesticulating we parted firm friends but I cannot remember exactly why!

Regular readers will remember the triffid pictured some days ago, it is apparently according to my old friend Moya, an agave, from which the mexicans make tequila.  She kindly sent me some sorrell seeds, I think perhaps she is concerned that with this new found knowledge I shall be harvesting the agaves for my 2010 tequila vintage and is trying to divert me!

A meeting (on a Saturday – work can be so irksome-) at the very relaxed Cafe Latin with John and Jane Balodis is interrupted by Mr Humphreys, who rather like his namesake in “Are You Being Served” is “free” at the moment being unable to get the quality of work that has hitherto been his forte.  Of course I know nothing of what he does, he began to explain to me something about government contracts but I glazed over and nearly lost the will to live, except to say that he is an expert in all things Cafe Latin and is or was a magistrate.  Neil (for that is his name) is accompanied by his delicious wife Helen, who is a presenter on shopping channel QVC, the media hub that is Valbonne expanding every day….

the feature hole, the 2nd at Royal Mougins

My picture today is from the magnificent Royal Mougins Golf Course.  More on my golfing weekend and characters in attandance tomorrow!

chris France

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