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Glut or gut?

February 17, 2011

Since my run in with the bathroom scales after Christmas, not yet resolved as the recalibration has clearly been a failure, I have been forced to consider, but not accept, that I may have put on a bit of weight. This may (although it is not admitted) be something to do with my Liquid Grain Storage Facility. In earlier days this may have been referred to as a beer gut, but when Europe had a beef mountain or a wine lake it was described a glut, which has almost the same spelling as a gut, hence, if it exists, which is not admitted, my newly extended storage facility may be called a beer glut, at least until I can get those bathroom scales to see sense. Now as I have been explaining to that nice lady decorator, some years there is famine, some years there is a feast, or glut. This just possibly (although it is not admitted) may be my feast phase.

Of course, my regular rigorous exercise programme of walking to the pub in the Valmasque Forest (disturbed today by inclement weather, which is at least dumping major new snow on the ski resorts just in time for half term) will continue and here is a picture of part of yesterdays walk down The Brague.

The river Brague near Valbonne. Banjo, the cocked up cocker is on the left, the proper dog, English springer, Max, on the right

Banjo, that comparatively new but cataclysmic interloper into our family unit has absolutely no idea how to behave or how to thank me for letting him stay in my household. He amused himself yesterday by breaking into my bedroom when I was out and kindly emptying the waste paper basket all over the floor. However, that nice lady decorator claimed that we was trying to help by emptying the basket into the dustbin and then got disturbed while he was trying to do a good deed, personally I would prefer him good and dead to deed. She could put a positive glow on terrorism.

In revenge, I had a meeting this morning out of the house and left him outside in the rain to get my own back, and stop him from offering any more of his “help” around the house but irritatingly he seemed to enjoy it. He really is the most infuriating animal I have ever had the misfortune to know. A pet scorpion would give me more pleasure, especially if I could get it to sting to order.

Anyway, enough about that mangy mutt, my afternoon meeting in Nice has been cancelled so I shall be planning my assault on the Riviera Business Club networking event tomorrow in Sophia, where once again I shall be in the missionary position vis-a-vis Currencies Direct. That is to say that I will be ministering to the masses of Sophia Antipolis.

Chris France
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One Comment leave one →
  1. February 19, 2011 8:02 pm

    your good


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