2011 Bordeaux?

How is it that “having a couple of friends over”, which I was told about yesterday lunchtime, could extend to 35 people descending upon me, last night just when I was looking for a quiet day?  I was just sitting back with a glass of rose at Chateau Begude after lunch, a 10 Euro note stuck on my forehead with a very sore Mr Gurdon (aka Mr Clipboard).  On this occasion, he was not sore due to the indulgence of those curiously public school boy activities that seem to be inveigled into every conversation,  but due to his being destroyed on the golf course by a much older man who gave him a 4 shot start for 9 holes. It was at this moment when that nice lady decorator revealed the arrangements, that even for her had got out of hand.

You know you are in trouble, when one of the people invited, Peachy Butterfield, asks if his 10 house guests can come as well, and before discussion is entered into, asks if they should all bring their swimming costumes. Perhaps I should not have made the pool lights fuse at just the wrong moment, but perhaps it was a good move, given the swim wear in view. Speedos, which were no doubt lurking beneath those colourful trousers, are not a good look for a man of his age.  He kindly brought some more of the freshest Bordeaux I have ever encountered, but was disappointed that he could not find any 2011, which may be due to the fact that the vines have not yet even flowered, but I guess a man emanating from such backward northern wastes may not have known that. Actually he revealed that his addicted to brake fluid but he could stop at any time.

My  picture today was taken last week from Grande Bastide golf course looking up to the old village of Opio. I thought a picture from the golf course yesterday may be a little too painful for Mr Clipboard, who was so upset, he pocketed the generous tip I had left for lunch.

Opio, viewed from the Grande Bastide golf course

Not again? I exclaimed, when that nice lady decorator told me to be scrubbed and groomed and on parade for 7pm this evening. Yes, I can hardly believe it but we are out again this evening, this time as a guest of Mr Clipboard. We must arrive “close to 7.30” which in his case means no earlier then 7.29 and no later that 7.31, so we will need to synchronise watches. I wonder if there is any of that 2010 Bordeaux that peachy brought left? that I can foist on my hosts.

Talk turned last night to the Royal Wedding next week in London, for which that nice lady decorator has concocted a flimsy pretext to attend, although not as a guest you understand. It is odd, the divergence of opinion over this event. The women are all goey-eyed and determined to watch every last nuance either in person or on TV, whereas the men are all setting up golf days or other activities so that no vestige of the most overblown and over-hyped event in modern history can touch their beings. I do not think it would take much to decide which camp I will be in. The good news is that I will have three days starting next Wednesday in which I can decide what to do and when. I am sure I can do it, but it will be eerily quiet without orders being barked at me from 8pm to midnight each day.  I have promised to walk the dogs each day, so off to the kennels on the way back from the airport…

Chris France