Waiters in jim jams, again

More baby tortoises have hatched overnight, but there are still not enough for a full sandwich. Pity, I could have done with a snack to take to golf today with Dave the Fade at St Donat. 

The writing briefs are flooding in, payment was collected today from Blue Water Yachting who seem surprised by the quantity, if not commenting on the quality of my output, but as I have explained in the past, if you work at the intensity I do, you don’t need to work for so long, although writing whilst watching the cricket test match has slowed down to merely exceptionally fast. 

Last night to the Moulin de la Brague at Plassassier for dinner and jazz, except the jazz had been cancelled because of the possibility of a storm within 100 miles, but a nice dinner was had in a lovely courtyard beneath an old lime tree. 

That nice lady decorator decimated a bottle of rose in under an hour but I was, as you would expect, far more abstemious, I think a bottle glass of red wine quite sufficient for one to appreciate ones surroundings and start to philosophise about life. The fact that no one was sitting within 10 metres of that nice lady decorator should not be misinterpreted , in fact by the time this picture was taken at about 2am, there was no one within 30 metres. I am rather too delicately inclined to reveal the reason, but if any of you suspect that her solitude was due in part to methane production, then they may be very near the mark. By this time, the staff had changed into their  jim jams (and gas masks?) giving a big hint that perhaps it was time to go home. 

Waiters, well everyone, give nice lady decorator wide berth

My cuisse de canard were rather ordinary, as was the salad de maison wolfed down by that nice lady decorator, but a venue like this is more about the ambience than the food. 

The post today was delayed due to decision to complete it after golf today for three reasons. Firstly because of the possibilities of hilarious consequences when one mixes a determined french former professional rugby playing golf beginner with a seasoned (very well seasoned, not to say more pickled than seasoned on some cases – Paul Duffy will know who I mean) bunch of ex-pat golfers.  Secondly, because I mentioned to one sheep fancying member of our group (who shall remain nameless although Steve Weston will know to whom I refer) that I had discovered a very alluring picture of a sheep in a bra and pants, and wanted to see how long it took for him to ask about it. 

The third reason is that I got up too late after being hijacked into a late night by the current Mrs France. 

So entertaining was today, with so much material, that I feel a special issue coming on tomorrow, Can i just leave you with a couple of teasers?  Steve Weston has promised to send me some pictures of sheep wearing masks…apparently, no, apparently nothing, read tomorrow.

Chris France       

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