Commuter pinch point – work needed

When ones son reaches the age of 18, as mine has today, a parent is entitled to worry about him leaving home, the worry of course being if the little bugger decides to come back.

On my birthday recently, that nice lady decorator gave me something really special, and out of the ordinary; for three hours she let me be right.

You cannot imagine what a treat this was for me. I had an extra treat today because I think it is fair to say she was not at her best, having enjoyed considerably more than her fair share of Josef’s hospitality on Friday evening at the Marco Polo. This meant that she was quieter than is normal, and sufficiently damaged not to enjoy a short diversion to the sea front to see the waves driven in by strong southerly wind.

There was also a surfeit of another kind of wind on the drive back from Theoule Sur Mer, over which I no control, but that is another story.

My picture today is another commuter shot from my trip from home to my second office. This was taken from the bridge over the Brague at the southern edge of the village, whilst I was in a traffic jam. Mme Droit, our next door neighbour, was walking the other way across the footbridge at the moment I arrived, and as it is only wide enough for one person at a time, I was forced to wait until she had crossed. I do so hate commuter delays. Perhaps I should suggest they put an extra lane on the bridge, in much the way they have done in England with the M1, otherwise I fear I shall often be delayed at this pinch point.

commuter nightmare pinch point, The bridge across the river Kwai, or the River Brague if you prefer

Today, lunch at the Thornton Allen’s across the road before settling into their “cinema room” to witness the next crushing victory for England against Scotland in the 6 Nations Rugby Tournament. Regular readers will realise that I am rather rude about this grandiose description of a large downstairs room with 90 inch high definition screen and comfy sofas seating about 16 in comfort, purely and only because I don’t have one.

After England’s boys cricket team had a slip up against Ireland recently, I received a great deal of abuse at my expense from several Irish friends on Facebook. I will not mention names, but John O Sullivan may be squirming in his chair as he reads this over his Sunday brunch. So it is with some relish that I enjoyed the game between Ireland and Wales yesterday. Given the result, I will feel justified in returning the Facebook favour today. Just in case you did not see it, Wales beat hot favourites Ireland 19-13..

Tomorrow, that nice lady decorator is heading back to England, taking my entire collection of sprogs with her to visit various educational institutions, solely it seems, to involve me in as much expense as possible for their continued education. My suggestions, that perhaps it may be time for the eldest to consider gainful employment, and to begin planning how to keep their father in a manner to which he would like to be accustomed, have so far been greeted with that withering stare of which I am so afraid. If there is an upside, it will be that I shall have the house to myself until Friday, and will have control of the kitchen. Regular readers will know that a better idea would be to shut the kitchen up completely and arrange a series of take-aways and lunches rather than allow me to create (havoc) therein.

Chris France