Doggy bag horror

November 20, 2010

tags: Auberge St Donat, Cote D Azur, Currencies Direct, Food & wine, fr2day, Living In France, Moving To France, Valbonne

It occurred to me that Banjo, the retarded, snot producing, smelly, ungrateful animal who has gate-crashed this household -at least for the moment – on the insistence of that nice lady decorator, is unemployed, lazy, can’t speak English and has idea who his father is. Perhaps he is a candidate for benefits?

Two more days of freedom before that nice lady decorator returns, then off to the airport on Monday for the trip to Australia to retain The Ashes, chaps will know what I mean. I have diary notes to contact all 3 of my BA pilot friends over the weekend to ensure they send the pilots charged with flying me on my mission to Australia to do “whatever they can to make my flight more comfortable” as the coded request for an upgrade is apparently worded.

Before that, tomorrow, a rare opportunity (weather permitting) to play golf with Dave the Fade et al, at St Donat. Dave has recently returned from China attempting to have his fade surgically removed. I shall report back on this doubtlessly doomed operation on Monday, as long as no rain is forecast.

Some people have asked if they will be spared my daily blatherings whilst I am away, but of course not! I have already pre-written a good chunk of the traveling days material, so pay close attention, there will be a test afterwards, and those that have not been paying attention will receive their punishment by way of exposure in this column.

Yesterday, lunch with the wingco at Auberge St Donat. That’s it, that’s all I remember, although the flashbacks have started and I seem to remember Remy Martin on a sunny terrace, watching the sun go down whilst the Wingco played guitar and sang the blues, but it may have been a dream.

Last evening, having been brutally awakened at 6 30pm from my post prandial brandy induced siesta, I found myself battling the twin towers of temptation, Wayne is insisting on my company early evening and the Wingo insists I celebrate the birthday of John Mundell later on. You will no doubt be aware of the fate of those towers and so I was expecting to crash and burn in a similar fashion, one way or another.

In the end, no call came from the Wingco, so I ended up having a drink with Wayne Brown from Fr2day, Melissa Graves and her faithful gardener Iuean (she is so generous inviting him out and looking after him when her husband is away, but then someone has to tend her geraniums) in La Kavanou and was feeing a bit peckish when I spotted the doggy bag in my picture below;

A new meaning for the word doggy bag

Most people, if they embrace the idea of a doggy bag, await the end of the meal before collecting the left overs, but this left over was taken to the bar by its owner, perhaps she thought the tapas were not sufficiently filling and decided to take a snack with her, and a a fresh one at that? Unless this little critter has another use? As I have been properly brought up, I have no idea what I am trying to imply, I am sure it is just a cute pet.

Chris France

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