Jehovah’s witnesses at church? shock

Whilst commuting to work on foot, which means walking along the very agreeable lanes that run from my house into the 12th century village of Valbonne, I encounter Susie, A neighbour who is alarmed that I might be “one of those awful bible bashers! What are they called?” Jehovah’s witnesses? I ask?

This was slightly confusing to me, and clearly for her at first, as I told her I was in fact on my way to church, before having to qualify that by adding “at Cafe Latin”. She has spotted my very smart Currencies Direct briefcase that I like to take to meetings to make myself look important, but in reality contains nothing more than some sweets and a copy of The Beano.

She must have mistaken this bag for the black attach cases often sported by those infernal god botherers. At first I was appalled. The reverend Jeff, an avid follower of this column, knows I am a complete atheist despite his best efforts to convince me otherwise, and I was chagrined that my appearance could have been confused with one of these religious nuts.

Susie then went to say that she always asked the Jehovah’s Witnesses to leave a brochure in the letter box when they came a knocking at her door. It transpires that she keeps them for when she is flying Easyjet to London, to put in the middle seat between her husband and herself to try to dissuade people (there is no pre-designated seating arrangement on this redoubtable airline, it’s a free for all) from using the middle seat, and claims a 100 per cent success rate so far.

So, at last, real evidence that their writings do have some value.

Cafe Latin is back to normal with a big turnout of all the great and good including Mr Humphreys (he was free). Amongst those in attendance were Mike Hardacre (with a K) co-founder of angloinfo sporting business like light grey crocs this time, fresh from moderating a seminar in Nice on Thursday evening. You see, he is so technologically advanced, he is unable to say chairing, or presenting, he has to say moderating.

Later in the evening at the fabulous setting of the beach side Marco Polo restaurant in Theoule Sur Mer, where a sumptuous feast of seafood was laid on by Persian fixer Joseph to celebrate his entry into his sixth decade (he hated that!), Mike again exhibited his techy nature. Most people, when buying presents for a significant birthday, buy nice books, or champagne or cuff links. Mike? He built a personal app for our host. I mean how good is that, to be able to build an Iphone app as a present. If only he spent some of his intellectual power on his dress sense, rather than being a walking advert for crocs?

The evening was wonderful, some of the best seafood I have ever seen or tasted, and beautifully presented, with no expense spared, so that nice lady decorator was able once again to drink her entire body weight in champagne. However, once the party finished, she insisted on buying more wine to consume back at the hotel with the Hardacres (with a K). Of course this little post soiree, soiree took place in our room as we had splashed out on the much more expensive (10 euros more, £8.20 at today’s exchange rate) sea view room, rather than the inferior mountain view room, which Mike was claiming was in fact bigger, even as his wife dragged him into the bedroom, possibly with an eye to him taking up the missionary position in his crocs.

Chris France