The forking debate

The forking debate continues unabated. Since my introduction to naked spooning and then naked forking, I have been receiving a number of emails and messages, some absolutely unrepeatable for a family column such as this. I must thank one of my friends who shall remain nameless who made reference to the classic Ronnie Barker sketch concerning four candles (or was it fork handles ?). I have learned a great deal about the assimilation of hitherto innocent kitchen utensils into that murky world beyond the bedroom doors, and frankly I think I must have led a sheltered life, that, or I have missed out on a great deal since puberty. I will have to leave this subject now, but a passing mention must be made for the humble whisk. I would never have thought of doing that with it.

Yesterday, I promised a picture of the Menthe Deuce in Mougins and so this is today’s photo. We did not eat there but have several recommendations from friends who have, not to do so again. Notably a comment from man mountain Peachy “I will eat anything even kitchen utensils” Butterfield who in the northern vernacular for which he is justly renowned described the food as “shite”. Nobody should be under any illusions, we are talking about  a man here who likes tripe, has lard on his toast,  black pudding and Mancunian Merlot, loves raw pigeons for breakfast, and loves them so much he even went to the extent of showing me his pigeon feeding area,

The Menthe Deuce in Mougins

Back to work then, so with a clear conscience I can mention Currencies Direct and how we can help people now that my vacation is over and my self-imposed moratorium of mentioning their services is as an end, but I do not want to labour the point. That nice lady decorator has developed a thing about banana palms. She has seen then growing in Valbonne and wants one. I pointed out that we have a perfectly serviceable plastic one, which despite a bit of mildew due to over zealous watering by Janie Savin the house guest last year, looks very presentable. I should have know that with such a comment that laser beam stare was brought to bear, and I quickly changed my mind and agreed that a banana palm, or even several were just what we wanted. Thus we trekked around some garden centres, with my attempts to look interested wearing a bit thin, and I suspect tomorrow we shall reap the benefit of today’s research and buy some. Planting these little babies is not something I am looking forward to, so in preparation I “developed” a sore back today and I am almost certain it will deteriorate overnight and remain sore until after my son has dug the holes and planted the little, or rather big blighters. It will be my son, as he was not privy to the news that banana palms and the planting thereof were a possibility, and anyway he is young an does not have the cunning, I mean the bad back that I do.

The agreed alcohol famine lasted until well after seven o clock last night, but with the sun out, a days work under my belt (not to mention about three kilos extra I collected and ingested in the north of England and am wearing around my midriff), it seemed fitting and right to enjoy a beer at beer o clock. with a quiet week head, at least as far as I have been told, a couple of beers can’t do much harm, can they?

Chris France