Broomsticks and truncheons

So what do you do after a very serious drinkathon lasting several days, when confronted by a sunny Sunday with nothing on the agenda?  I know, lets open some wine and get drunk. That seemed to be the message that I received as the sun passed the yardarm yesterday. So at 12.20pm, the bloody Mary’s were prepared and the afternoon of wine consumption commenced soon after.

So I guess I should not have been surprised by that nice lady decorator heading off to bed early, after of course the passing shot at the kids who had once again left the kitchen like war zone.

Kids are wonderful, you can’t live with them and you can’t kill them. They love the facilities we provide, the bar, the pav, the web, (the name given to our new outside bar and lounge area created by that nice lady decorator. It is called the web because once you get into it, it is very difficult to escape. Our house in England was called Hotel California after an Eagles song of the same name, which includes the line, “you can check out but you can never leave”). However they fail to realise that whatever facility they have availed themselves of should be left in the state that they found it, unless of course they have found it after a particularly wild night before that nice lady decorator has cleaned up.

Their continual failure to adhere to this simple creed allows her to unveil her dark side, when she can make Darth Vader seem like a good guy. For me, once was enough, but my kids seem determined to walk on the wild side with alarming regularity.

So last evening was spent doing very little except watching the TV and dealing with my children’s earlier traumatic experience. I had to explain to both of them that, whilst her anger was justified, I did not think her threat to ram broomsticks up their anuses, if they ever left the place in a similar state again, was one that the nice lady decorator would necessarily go through with, but I confess they may have seen through my uncertainty.

You may think it is a dangerous subject to associate broomsticks with that nice lady decorator, and, if she were reading this column I may not be so bold, but it is a connection witch I could not possible avoid given her outburst. My picture today is of some undergarments (I hesitate to call them pants) which were being worn by an anonymous chap on the big boat last Friday and depict another everyday item which apparently may be used in a similar way as the threat of the broomstick above.

Nice truncheon indeed!

Today, nose to the grindstone working on the Tour de Finance for Currencies Direct and my tan. One is on Thursday at Mougins and the other is coming along nicely. At least that is the plan as both can to achieved very effectively from my outdoor office area known as the hammock (now that it has been tidied up, as it also was the victim of the teenage rampage).

At present I have not been informed of a social occasion before tomorrow evening when a dinner is arranged, and with tennis on Wednesday, Le Tour de Finance on Thursday and a birthday celebration on Friday, It would be sensible to attempt an evening of abstinence this evening. However, as regular readers will know, it may be that my instructions in triplicate from that nice lady decorator for this evenings festivities have not yet been handed down, or that something will kick off spontaneously, especially as this is the best time of the year weather-wise and when events tend to be more outside than inside.

Chris France