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Hair piece balderdash

June 12, 2011

I am a not a vindictive man, unless I feel I have been wronged, but my suspicions about how my putter became broken in my bag before the first of the big golf matches earlier in the week have become aroused. Luckily my golfing prowess is sufficiently well-developed that I was able on that day to overcome the disadvantage with a putter borrowed from the caddy master and to take Savin senior to the cleaners, so I was in a reasonably confident when I walked on to the putting green yesterday to get the feel of my new putter, but it was bent.  Clearly suspicion must lie in the general direction of my opponent, obviously smarting from the 4 and 2 victory on Thursday; a broken putter, followed by a bent putter?  However, such is my ability to overcome misfortune, that I adapted my style to the rather bent surroundings and despite not playing quite as well, dispatched the challenge of my opponent to win with style and ease.

Style is, as readers of yesterdays column will know, is something that does not come easy to Savin senior. Yesterday for instance I caught him trying on a hairpiece belonging to that nice lady decorator and managed to steal a photo which is my picture today. Those that know him will realise that his own receding hairline (aka a balderdash) may have had some deeply profound influence on why he would try such a thing whilst I am in possession of a camera phone, but there you have it, a catastrophe.

I think it suits him.

Lunch in the web took the strain away from my fridge which was trying to keep at least a dozen bottles chilled and was half emptied within a couple of hours. At least on this occasion Savin senior was not denied anchovies, as he had been the day before, presumably some kind of punishment for losing to me, so siesta was entirely necessary before the next round, an evening with the Thornton Allans, he of the exhibition world, or rather he who makes an exhibition of himself if anyone remembers his picture a few weeks back.

Talking of exhibitions, there is a fascinating exhibition of painting of birds in Valbonne until 30th June by Carla Bucknell at 4 Rue De La Fontaine, although a number of great paintings have been sold, a number remain.

A discreet person would probably draw a veil over the proceedings last night , but as the only people who read this clearly enjoy indiscretion, so onwards and upwards.

The wingco was wearing a sweater that had clearly never been troubled by an iron and smacked of being about thirty years old. When I challenged him about this clear faux pas, he suggested that his lovely wife Maryse, a former picture editor of Vogue Magazine and Conde Naste, had said that his choice of trouser was not conducive to his pastel colour shirt of choice, thus he had been forced to change shirts at short notice, and so his choice of late night sweater, another reason no doubt why they were the customary hour and a half late. I am sure that the sweater in question was once a dear favourite before being downgraded to gardening jumper some twenty years ago, and it’s aroma bore witness to its long service in this respect. But for all that, a glass of red wine, well more than several, seemed to calm him.

At one stage I am afraid the b word came up. This blog is considered “ghastly” by the wingco who refuses to read it, but has painted himself into a corner as when he does, he cannot complain about its contents for fear of me realising that he is an avid reader.

Today being Sunday, I will have a day off from my tireless promotion of the services of Currencies Direct, so you will not have to read about how much money you can save on foreign exchange transfers for at least one day. Lunch will be taken at Juan Les Pins on the beach, probably at Le Petit Plage, so a tough day ahead.

Chris France

One Comment leave one →
  1. Pinman permalink
    June 12, 2011 11:32 am

    You have just invented a new golfing term…….the George Michael……..

    Straight into the hole with a bent putter !


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