The “Graves” digger?

There is of course one really uplifting fact that goes with letting out ones house out for three weeks; banjo goes to prison for the whole period. That nice lady decorator coos at him over the past few days telling him it’s like a holiday camp, but he knows when he looks at me and I have a smug grin on my face, he knows what is coming, half rations (still more than enough for his huge frame) no lovely walks through the Valmasque, and no possibility of stealing food from tables without serious retribution. happy days, for me.

The final preparations to get the house ready for the clients are fraught with stress. Not for me of course, unless caught in the crossfire of that nice lady decorator’s laser beams, although in my experience it is always as well to look busy and industrious whenever the laser beams are pointing in my direction, anyway all was well, and we set off in Bluebell the camper, next stop the Var.

So no more promotion of Currencies Direct until August, although I am so dedicated, please look out for any daily inadvertent mentions and links and feel free to complain in the comments section below if you spot any.

Bluebell behaved impeccably and we reached our destination of Trans en Provence in time for some early evening champagne snifters ahead of a barbecue. Earlier whilst being sent on some errands by that nice lady decorator in Valbonne I came across some Japanese tourists taking pictures in Valbonne Square. I offered to take a group shot for them, but when I said “wave” they all just legged it.

The Graves family continue to help out people wherever they are, giving us an alternative to sleeping in the camper by offering us a sumptuous room, once again feeding their gardener Iueuan or something like that – but pronounced Yayan (pictured her today – I do so like pink on a man) and offering to sell me a raffle ticket for African orphans, but I turned down the opportunity, with my luck I would probably win one.

pretty in pink?

Today we are scheduled to lunch on the beach near St Tropez, at a place called st Barts that has a restaurant with a swim up bar. Being a confirmed and determined non swimmer, I cannot see many positives about this, unless the bar is at the shallow end. Don’t get me wrong, I like seafood, and I also like things like soup and custard but I wouldn’t want to standing in it whilst eating it.

I have not yet mentioned Currencies Direct more than once and will not do so as I am now on holiday until the end of the month, and am only 10 days from the trip to England for the Lords Test against India (cricket for those ladies amongst my readership who will never understand) where English beer beckons. Yayan, the Graves gardener (could he in some ways be described as “the Graves digger?”) professed a love of “dark and mild”, a peculiar northern beer mixture. Where on earth my Welsh friend (yes he is Welsh as some of you would have gathered from the silly name) could have picked up such a nasty northern habit is alarming, especially as he considers his Welsh accent to be “southern”, which of course is stretching it a bit.

Before that though, the next striking point, starting tomorrow is Arles, an ancient city to the west, en route for the Costa Brava if we get time and Bluebell continues to behave, and also as long as that nice lady decorator continues to behave as well.

Chris France