Stategic talks deplete beer supplies

The news that there was a new bar open near Opio meant only one thing; we needed to go and check it out. Yesterday afternoon, we did just that via Super U, the local supermarket, to pick up several vats of wine ready for a barbecue that we seem to be staging today the concept of which was born only yesterday but now has nearly 30 people attending. The moral of this particular story is; when I am asked if we have anything planned for Sunday, not meekly to say to that nice lady decorator “whatever you have in mind for me”. This was supposed to mean that as it is Fathers Day, perhaps she was going to surprise and delight me. I suppose in retrospect I was surprised, but not quite in the way I was hoping for. Delight is a subjective concept, and although I am delighted that so many new friends are apparently able to make time to come and eat and drink at my expense, the fact that once again several hundred more Euros at still a rather nasty exchange rate will depart from my wallet is something less than delightful, and no doubt that fiend who deposits bottles all over my garden from time to time will be busy again today.

The bar was, well, open. It was working as  a bar and a restaurant called Choucho, and seemingly a sister venue to the one of the same name in nearby Roquefort Les Pins, but limited to pizza and rather bizarrely steak tartare. I think it was the second night of operation. I considered asking for a steak tartare ” au point” but did not think they would get the joke, thus,  We had dinner in the sunshine in a car park onto which they had places a dozen tables over the newly painted parking bays, which consisted of a pizza and some beers plus a carafe of rose. So after a very brief dinner we adjourned to the web to plan strategy for today.

The web; great for strategising, hard to get out of.

Strategic talks took place in the web until late in the evening. It was decided we need staff today, so my son James and a friend have been pressed into service. Unfortunately, this meant my son was involved in this strategic discussion, and he is a very thirsty boy for beers he does not have to pay for when talking, and also when not talking, thus I may need to replenish my beer supplies this morning before the onslaught this afternoon.

I must head back to the land of wind and rain this week, to London, but happily for just one night, just enough time to avoid hypothermia and drink some London Pride. The reason is we must visit Ashbourne College, the ruinously expensive college chosen by my daughter Charlie, whom I promised I would never mention in this column, so I won’t.

Of course, this destroys the golfing and tennis activities had pencilled in for the week, so no more golf until the REGS tournament at The Grande Bastide next Saturday the 12th June.   I am guessing that the Fete De La Musique may draw us to Mouans Sartoux on Tuesday, as it traditionally held on the longest day, and that has reminded me that when I get to London on Wednesday, the nights will already have begun to draw in, ready for the winter which cannot be far behind. Fete De La Musique It seems to entail any number of groups right across the musical spectrum, setting up and playing in the street. This is about the only time of the year that this very French enclave comes to life.

Chris France