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Cricket balls up

April 25, 2011

Rather alarmingly, I have agreed to play cricket again next week at Cabris. They have a cricket pitch up there, just the other side of Grasse, and there are several teams in the area. I know I must have agreed to play as I have received a call confirming it, but do not recall when I agreed to such a stupid idea. Whilst I was once a decent cricketer in my youth, and I single-handedly guided Little Horwood to a famous victory in division 6 of the Buckingham and District League when marooned in the UK last summer,  I am now pushing 60,  so any activity of this nature is probably ill-advised. It is certain therefore that I agreed to this folly whilst under the influence.

To blame for this state of affairs is Pete Bennett at Blue Water Yachting, as I understand he plays as well. I can see no other connection. Talking of Mr Bennett, he is supposed to be involved in the royal wedding golf avoidance plan for next Friday, but has not quite understood the main thrust of the activity, wedding coverage avoidance, as he has asked to make sure the golf is over in good time for him to dash back and watch the boring event on TV. It seems that he is a royalist and once met the queen, so feels he should witness it. I know some queens and am also a royalist but have not the slightest interest in seeing what Carla Sarkozy Bruni will be wearing, or trying to spot the Prince’s bald spot, or to guess whether he is wearing a syrup (of figs – wig; cockney rhyming slang), although that would interest me more than event itself. I do hope that the wingco will be available for a long lunch during proceedings, just to ensure I miss it all.

Bluebell the camper van is unwell. Easter is normally the time when we attempt the awakening from hibernation, but she does not seem to want to wake up this year, and that is how I feel today. The events of the last 2 weeks have ground me down to the point where I did not even want a beer last evening, perhaps I am sickening for something.

Bluebell the camper, still in hibernation

Today to a barbecue somewhere in Valbonne with Roly and Leslie who were both deeply involved in medical research. I wonder if they can advise me what to do about a rather nasty irritation, perhaps I should divorce her?

Then this week another concerted attempt at temperance. If I can get through Tuesday, then that nice lady decorator flies off to the UK on Wednesday, although I may need a drink to calm my nerves in the face of my sons cooking. Not sure I can face chicken nugget curry when sober..

Mr Clipboard tells me that he has applied for tickets for almost all Olympic events and all ticket prices. He has worked out that he will have a bill of £10,000 if he gets his whole application. Just how many tickets has he applied for in the women’s volleyball competition? I mention this because something has been troubling me about the Olympics, If one member of a synchronised swimming team drowns, do the rest drown too?

I love the Irish, you can always have a good joke at their expense. I heard Jude O Sullivan saying she had to take a scarf she bought back to the shop as it’s too tight. This was before the Baileys had taken full effect on Saturday evening.

My angloinfo Happy Mondays blog is published again this morning. In no way should this be seen as a blatant attempt to advertise the wonderful services of Currencies Direct

Chris France

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