Rugby, a game played by men with funny shaped balls

I set out with the trailer, collected the gravel, full of industrious intent, but then the sun was out and the hangover was still lurking, and then the wind suddenly got up, so an extremely flimsy excuse popped into my head, obviously I thought, too much dust flying around…..much paperwork had accrued during the Savin onslaught but such is the intensity of my work ethic on those odd occasions that it was all cleared up by lunch time. I have often told my jealous and sometimes surprisingly unbelieving friends that if one works at the intensity I do, the one never has to do a full day! and, after hearing that beaches were being closed in Nice due to the strong winds,  we decided to pop into Cannes in the late afternoon expecting carnage, but the Croisette beach was like a millpond, sheltered from the brisk easterly, however the Palm Beach end was it bit wild as my picture shows.

To the left of Palm Beach, Cannes, wind surfer heaven

An invitation to a barbeque with the precocious Pippa and rubgy playing husband Gerald in the village in our jaded condition (actually there should be a new English verb “To Savin” whose meaning should be “to exact serious liver damage and general carnage on innocent people”)  was not greeted with the enthusiasm it would normally receive, but as I pointed out to the current Mrs France, at least we would not have to cook! We resolved to go for an hour but it was such a convivial evening that we did not leave until after midnight. I meet several Grassois rugby players amongst whom is Norman Jordon. He played against England at scrum half for the Springboks in 2002 at Twickenham and tells fascinating stories about being a coloured rugby payer at the end of the apartheid regime. I was not aware that there was a big coloured and black rugby movement during apartheid, a fact that did not emerge when I saw the otherwise brilliant film “Invictus” at the Valbonne cinema.
Today golf was on the agenda at Chateau Begude, otherwise known as Opio/Valbonne, a pretty course but with a couple of narrow holes that let it down, against Dilip by diminutive South African friend, who is far from pretty, except for his golf, no actually that is also far from pretty.  It was a pleasant game, but once again I do not recall the result, I believe the taking part is so much more important than the winning, The course does not really suit the skilful player with the big drive, it is more suited to old men who can hit the ball far enough to lose it, so I try not to play there often.  I just hope I don’t get sent any more juvenile photographs of people with bank notes stuck on their foreheads, most unbecoming.

As the sun is out, and its Friday, “square bashing” appears to be organised for late lunchtime, so it is my duty to turn up and pay as usual.  I am sure that you realise that I would prefer to be back at my office hard at work extolling the virtues of Currencies Direct, but it seems I have other duties, toodle pip!

Chris France

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