Dali Garden in hooliganism shock

So, a bit like waiting for a dental appointment, where you know it is going hurt but you just want to get it all over with, that nice lady decorator tried to bring forward our estate agents meeting to look at Salvador Dali’s house. I suppose he has no more use for it having died, so I suppose it is up for sale. Why else would be going to see it?

She was trying to move the rendezvous as it clashed with lunch, and I think my sulky countenance may have had something to do with the attempted change, but no luck so lunch was truncated.

So the house itself? Nice position right on the seafront in a pretty bay, with a couple of bars nearby. Several fisherman’s cottages knocked together and extended in some rather alarming ways, but it would have been a bit more saleable if they cleared all that clutter and rubbish taking up the whole place.

There were dozens of very dodgy photos and paintings littered about the place, not worth even sending for house clearance, just rubbish and the product if a deseased mind, I wonder why Dali collected so many obscure images?, but there was at least a nice lick of white paint over most things  and I reckon you could add a bit to the value by turning it to about a dozen flats and turn it round and make a profit.

You would have to overcome bit of a problem with the pool as some idiot had designed it to be long and thin, allowing only one person to swim up and down at the time, so that would need to be ripped up and something decent put in its place, and as for the garden? there were some nice bits but one part of it was a disgrace, I don’t think Dali had any kids so it must have been the neighbours offspring who collected this load of rubbish and put it in his garden.

If my kids had made a mess like this in my garden there would have been blood

I mentioned this to that nice lady decorator but she seemed less than impressed, indeed I formed the opinion that if we did buy it, she wanted to keep all the clutter as it was. I remonstrated saying that when my garden in my council house a very long time ago looked a little like this, she was all for clearing it up on the spot and giving me a hard time to boot.  So just because of some moustache toting charlatan, (of whom incidentally I have the highest regard as a result of his ability to make people believe he was a great artist) has a mess in HIS garden, he is somehow wonderful? Women, I shall never understand them.

Regular readers will once again spotted the lack of a plug for Currencies Direct, and rest assured there will be no such link until at least August 1st when I shall once again take the helm of a great financial empire

That nice lady decorator has a habit of buying handbags. So many has she bought that about two years ago, I suggested that we should call it a hundred that she already had, so that the next one would be numbered 101 and onwards. She fails to believe the handbag she talked of buying yesterday would have been Number 179. As it turned out she decided not to buy it, mainly because the shop was closed by the time she decided she wanted it. The reason she wanted a new bag? not that she normally needs a reason, but she thinks there is something sticky in bag 178, but I have pleaded not guilty.

Chris France