Claustrophobic – a fear of Santa Clause?
Banjo has surpassed himself. I took delivery of some drugs for a sinus problem yesterday which I left on the stairs, just within reach of the malicious mutt Banjo whilst we popped out for an early evening engagement at the Cafe des Arcades in Valbonne. He had clearly decided that his sinuses were also in need of some attention, so in the long traditional of the kleptomaniac, he decided to steal my drugs and start his own course of medication presumably for his own sinus problems.
To say that I kicked his arse may be something if an understatement, but whatever punishment was meted out was richly deserved. But to counterpoint that my picture shows the Christmas spirit amongst animals;
That reminds me of the old joke the Reverend Jeff used to tell as a double act in our youth; “my dogs go no no’s”, “how does he smell”? “Terrible”.
The occasion last night? There was no occasion, it was just an impromptu shopping/ social gathering in Valbonne. We planned to take pity on the stall holders at their Christmas market who have braved the most fearful three days of weather by buying some last-minute items (and make the best of the improved exchange rate but understandably many had packed up and gone home, so a vin chaud in the Cafe Des Arcades was called for on the way home but we found others of a similar mind with identical ideas.
It has been suggested that perhaps the stall holders had become claustrophobic, meaning that they had developed a fear of Santa Clause, but I don’t believe that to be the case.
Last minute Christmas presents are sometimes a real problem. I must be a very difficult bloke to buy for, a man who has almost everything he needs, but almost nothing that he wants. My daughter asked me earlier this month if I wanted an advent calendar, which I used to love as a kid, with a window to open every day of December right up to Christmas Day, but I was always disappointed with the picture or the manky bit of chocolate that was revealed. So I said I didn’t but then I thought about what I would like to see in one of these festive calendars and came to the conclusion that a Jehovah’s Witness calendar would be good, it should have 25 pictures of me saying “f**k off” to them from every window.
Christmas Eve (is that what Adam might have said in the Garden Of Eden, Christmas? Eve?) apparently requires my presence at lunch in Valbonne with other revellers, then there is some drinks at 4pm somewhere and then I think we are committed to a dinner engagement this evening, but you can see that it’s already its blur and I have a serious worry about Christmas Night. Clearly I must be in position, awake, in front of the TV for the commencement of the 4th Ashes Test in Melbourne in the early hours of Boxing Day, but in order to stay awake I will need to sleep sometime and at present I cannot see any window of opportunity for sleep in our packed schedule. I used to have a reputation for dozing off at dinner parties so perhaps I need to revisit this skill in the coming days.
If you thought you might get away with this blog not appearing over Christmas, think again, sleep and alcohol permitting, I shall be at the keyboard every day with more takes on the ideal rich at play in Valbonne.
Let me leave you with a Christmas joke “What do you call a reindeer with ear muffs?” – “anything you like, he can’t hear you”
Chris France
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“my dogs go no no’s”.
Within the mind-numbing blizzard of typo-chrisisms, this has got to rank highly..!!
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Thank you, I thought so too
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