Worthless activity? yes

So I had lunch after playing tennis, and instinctively, I felt it was a move which would not reward me in the way I deserved. The phrase “you are not having lunch as well as playing tennis with one day to go before the rental clients arrive?” should have given me a clue, and I confess that had I listened a little more to my intuition, I may have picked up a few negative vibes. Once I had returned from lunch, my faux pas, which had not been consciously evident to me before lunch, became apparent. It was not that I could contribute towards the sterling job being undertaken by that nice lady decorator, it was just that I had clearly been having fun whilst she was working, and that fact alone could not go unpunished. The fact that this was the state of play existed in reverse for the best part of the last twenty years counted for nothing and was dismissed out of hand, and so, I was given a series of those non jobs that husbands and boyfriends know so well when they have transgressed some unwritten rule.

Thus I swept a terrace which had been swept two days before, but obviously needed doing again, despite the fact that there was no perceivable difference before to after. The pav apparently needed to be hoovered despite having been thoroughly cleaned just two days ago, then a series of other worthless task were assigned. I say worthless, they were worthless from my viewpoint, however I am certain that the nice lady decorator attained some gratification from my due completion of said worthless endeavour.

Lunch of course was required after a gruelling game of tennis with one Bill Colegrave and Mr Clipboard taking on the mighty MOG’s. In truth, it was a very good game of tennis, so good that I fear I have forgotten the result, however it was very close and a thoroughly enjoyable game in the rather hot sunshine.

Bille Colegrave with rather elite golf shirt, but also a glass in his hand

At lunch, Bill was sporting a golf club shirt as my picture above shows. Many of us golfers have these, from Wentworth, Troon, Sandwich or Celtic Manor and many of the famous golf courses around the world, but how many of us golfers have a shirt from a golf course in  war torn Darfur in the Sudan?  If I could have predicted one of  my friends to have such an item it would have been Bill Colegrave, because of his previous experiences and interest in Afghanistan, and Africa, the former of which he has written about in the past.

And so today our journey starts in Bluebell the camper van. Not too far on the first leg, merely to Trans in the Var, about half an hour by normal car and about an hour and a quarter in Bluebell, to stay with Melissa and Nigel Graves. Melissa is already known to readers of this column for the photo of her sellotaping up her mouth when in my presence to ensure she did not say anything stupid to be reported in this column. This picture featured in my top 15 pictures from the first year of publication. Little does she know that this sellotape trick will not work, partly because she is always talking and because of the quantity of words that issue forth, there is not a person with sufficient cerebral power to remember everything that she says, and partly because, given the prodigious output, she is bound to say something stupid at some stage, but mostly because she of her Irish origin.

On Sunday there is talk of lunch on the beach at at St Barts, near St Tropez, and although I would prefer to be at home extolling the virtues of Currencies Direct, that nice lady decorator prefers the beach, so, hey ho….

Chris France