Democracy, female style
Duno what happened, this should have published yesterday, so sorry, anyway we had a democratic vote, the beaches of Juan Les Pins, Cannes or nearby Villeneuve Loubet for lunch. There was two votes for Cannes, and only one for the latter, but what I hadn’t realised was the votes from adult females count double, and in the event of a tie, the adult female has the casting vote. Thus we had lunch in Villeneuve Loubet, close to Biot as a result of this truly democratic decision.
I do so love it when democracy over rides personal preferences and produces what some see as the right result. She tells me not to mention that we are in Villeneuve Loubet because “its crap there”, so I will not. However, she is wrong, we lunch at Paradise Beach, which perhaps over states its allure, but it is quite charming, if small collection of beach restaurants, some 400 metres from the Bay Des Anges, near Nice, the famous modern curved collection of apartments, visible to all when landing at Nice airport. The Salads are good if not spectacular, and the house rose is drinkable (unlike any rose served to us in England recently). The beach is busy, quite pretty, but stones never appeal to me the way sand does, but with our proximity to the waves, something that with the tides in England can never really be, and the sparkling azure sea plus the necessary holiday intake of quite a nice Provencal rose, all is well with the world, as my picture today attempts to portray.
An invitation to play golf this morning was accepted before Peter Bennett, head honcho at Blue Water Yachting, who must be commended for rescuing me from literally literal oblivion, revealed the tee off time. 06.55. I was unaware that one could play golf in the dark, but he assures me it will be light. If fact I think there is a rather tasteless joke about Tiger Woods and Stevie Wonder about night time golf, anyway, The last time I was up that early, although it was quite recently, it was that late rather than that early, if you get my drift! He says that he is then able, after a round of golf, to put in a full day of work. I suggest that 2 hours intensive labour after an exhausting (and I suspect costly in betting terms) round of golf must be debilitating, but I receive that withering look that suggests I do not fully understand the world of yacht charter. Still, he should be finished in time for lunch, surely?
I have been invited next week to play in a veterans celebrity cricket tournament. It is for the over 40’s so I just about qualify although I accept I may have to use some ageing makeup. I accept with a happy heart, I realise I have missed the cut and thrust of the game after guiding Little Horwood to a famous victory recently. Then, like a dagger to the heart, it was revealed that said tournament was to be staged in….Yorkshire. Regular readers will know that I have sometimes been a trifle blunt about the county, and blunt seems to sum up the Yorkshire spirit. Blunt or gruff. But you have to admire their stoic optimism, they honestly believe there is no other place than Yorkshire to live, whereas I know the complete opposite to be the truth. Anyway I will “grin and bear it” as I think the local wits would have it.
Chris France
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France,
No matter how far away you try to hide from me, I can find you. It is demonstrably ridiculous for a man of your age and ability to still be playing cricket let alone golf. I can only guess that you are trying to wipe the indelible stain on your soul that arose when you, along with Brian Lara, became my rabbit. Rien n’a changé ! Ferguson.
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ferguson< you fraud< you know very well that Brian Lara was nearer you when the bowled than his wicket, it was clearly an attempt to get out, it must of been one of the 3 straight ones you ever bowled
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P.S.
Showed Sam your photo. She said the moustache makes you look like Boycee from only fools & horses !
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