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Valentines Day Sex Advice?

February 13, 2011

I was looking forward to telling that nice lady decorator that I was going to alone to a Valentine lunch to talk about sex tomorrow, but the only reaction was a palpable sense of relief, discernible even over the crackly phone signal from the frozen northern wastes of Yorkshire where she is currently “enjoying” a short trip.

She was very lucky, as there are only about 6 phones in Yorkshire, electricity is rare, the tundra at its most unforgiving. She took her mobile phone with her, just in case a telecommunications satellite went off course, and lo and behold, just like the guy adrift miles from anywhere, about 800 miles off the coast of Indonesia, a signal appeared on her phone for a full 2 minutes, just enough to fix her position and make a brief call to me. So now there is a small chance that she can call for help when she has had enough.

Relief is the operative word today, as yesterday was the first full recovery day after my recent skiing trip. The relief was from enforced alcohol consumption and public schoolboy innuendo revelations released by drunken revelation. My picture today is of one of those public schoolboys, Mark Gurdon with another item he coveted. This one is not a moose. You are going to have to read yesterdays to understand that one!

A couple of porkers

The public schoolboy theme has been taken up enthusiastically by 2 of my avid readers Moya and Josef, who clearly have more knowledge than I about the rituals of public school life. Indeed their discussion on Facebook became so diverse or do I mean perverse? that eventually they decided to call a halt in case I used some of the material they were discussing, so I would not want to disappoint them.

The expression “shirt lifters” was an underlying theme which, as a humble state school student I did not understand. All I knew when I was at school were shop lifters and none of them would have bothered to lift a shirt so I am at a loss, can someone enlighten me?

So after a day of rest and recuperation yesterday, not a drop of alcohol touched my lips, well until the evening obviously, I mean it was Saturday night, and only sad lonely people stay in, or in my case go out. I needed to check on The Queens Legs to ensure it was functioning correctly in my absence, and the La Kavanou for the same reason, and I am happy to say that all was in order. Except me of course, I was well out-of-order.

Today, the Landlubbers play 18 holes of golf at the Grande Bastide. This is of course work for me, both on a networking level for Currencies Direct who now have a number of happy clients in the group, but also in my continuing research for the golf holiday offering I am constructing in conjunction with tennis compatriot Greg Harris at Cote d’Azur Villas. I wonder if my accountant will notice if I put the cost of the round on both expense claims?

Chris France
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