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Chinese curry favour?

March 18, 2011

Riviera Radio reported this morning that a chinese company, making, er, china, had made a slight error on their commemorative Royal Wedding plates. I am sure they will now become collectors items showing, as they do a picture of Kate Middleton nuzzling up to Prince Harry, Williams brother.

Perhaps it was Freudian, and given the disparate nature of royal relationships in the Royal Family over the last two decades, who is to say that such an error may turn out not be an error at all? After all, perhaps the love child of Princess Diana and his father (Charles ?) may eventually get his feet under the Middleton table at some stage?. Kate’s mother is of course a former British Airways stewardess. Doors to manual anyone?

This got me thinking about what other merchandise could be marketed either inappropriately or in a manner which might cause amusement (to me). After careful thought, it seems to me that it comes down to books. Maybe Charlie Sheen should write ” A Life Of Sobriety”? Prince Andrew “I loved Ginger Tosser” (which as regular readers will know is a Cornish real ale), or Prince Charles “Fidelity is Everything”? This could lead to Colonel Gaddaffi; what about “Turn The Other Cheek”? or even Tony Blair “I am not in it for the money”?

The deluge has abated so I ventured out to the Brague River in the Valmasque forest again this morning (without the non waterproof, waterproof jacket) and took this picture below:

I hope my ark is ready for delivery

Last night I ventured into the square to Valbonne to see if I could find Jude O Sullivan, and her supermarket trolley fill of Baileys, and from there to the Kashmir Indian restaurant to ensure that the kitchen is progressing satisfactorily. I went to the square at the behest of a message on angloinfo suggesting a gathering, but it seems the Irish contingent amongst us are not enjoying the prospect of their imminent rugby defeat which will occur at the hands of the mighty England on Saturday. The demise for Ireland started when they joined the euro. Nothing good could come of it, and they know it.

Once Government approval had been received from the governing body (and what a body!), Soraya, she and husband Bill Colegrave convened at the Kashmir in Valbonne with the wingco and beautiful wife Maryse. But it was after the dinner crowd had scuttled off to bed that the trouble started. Some city types were making a lot of noise in one corner, so I decided to join them. I think it was 1.30pm when we finally spotted the staff in their pyjamas and went home.

That nice lady decorator is back tomorrow, and I have been living like a vegan hermit for three days. Not a drop of alcohol has passed my lips, and only the smallest amount of food, barely enough to keep a mouse, in aid of expected substantial weight loss. And the result? Absolutely zero. So that’s it, I have had enough (or rather I haven’t had enough), I am starving and dehydrated and fed up, so I set out last night intent on getting properly fed up, so to speak, by way of several Guinness’s at the Queens Legs and a curry to commiserate. I will have to find an alternative method to lose that extra muscle that I seem to have accumulated, or trash those lying bathroom scales once and for all.

What is all the more astonishing is that people keep coming up to me and asking if I have lost weight. Perhaps I have? But how does that fit (or I suppose rather more literally, fail to fit) with the problem I am experiencing with my belts? I can only believe that they have all shrunk at the same time.

Chris France

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