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Nice Pouch

August 17, 2011

My old friend Moya Janko has come up trumps again. She suggests in a comment about yesterday’s piece relating to dachshunds that there may be some double entendre possibilities for the expression “it is a nice pouch”. It may be a spelling error but I suspect she may have meant to say “nice pooch”. She also goes on to say that I may have missed some opportunities for the kind of innuendo and smut so beloved of the readers of this column, in that I missed the opportunity to make the most of phrases like “sausage dogs” and “weiners”. This may indeed be true, but she gives me no credit for the fact that I may have considered the possibilities of going down this root (there you go!) and decided to avoid it in the interests of good taste. Having now considered the possibilities, I have to admit she is right, I did miss an opportunity.

My picture today was taken from The Quays Irish pub in Cannes the night before last at the Russian fireworks display, and shows the moon trying to outshine Mr Abramovitch’s money, which reputedly paid for the admittedly wonderful display.

The Russian firework display in Cannes

Yesterday was busy, with me providing a taxi service for friends Wet Suit Nigel, his lovely wife Lesley and Louise Chapman, F1 TV personality, all determined to brave the square in Valbonne during the circus at the height of the tourist influx. This involved going into Valbonne Square for early evening drinks. Wet Suit Nigel gained his name from an exploit on a cricket tour to Jersey about 20 years ago, when, depressed by the weather having interfered to cause the abandonment of the match in which we were playing, decided to register his protest by donning his windsurfing rubber suit, then putting on his pads, gloves, jock strap and cricket box over the top (good expression) and taking a running dive into one of the biggest puddles on the Jersey Island Cricket Club ground.

Earlier I had been persuaded by the wingco to take lunch at the Auberge St Donat in the hope of meeting up with writer and former tennis foe, Damp David, as he has become known for reasons I simply cannot go into here. That he is American and attended the same university as David Cameron and that little upstart who is Chancellor of the Exchequer at the moment in the UK (whose name I cannot recall) and was in the infamous Bullingdon Club at the same time must remain our little secret, so private must Damp David’s background remain. Anyway, he proved himself to be wingco-esque in terms of lateness and arrived some two hours late for lunch.

There was an inevitable drift back to mine, before I had to chuck them all out to meet the troops in Valbonne Square. Once they had been safely deposited back in the astral heights of the Parc de Mougins, behind the 24 hour security, I was able to return to the pav for a nightcap and to contemplate the days events. So after about two minutes I headed for bed.

I have just read this back and have realised that so far I have not mentioned the wonderful services of Currencies Direct. This can simply not be allowed, so please consider them mentioned from now on.

Today, nine holes of golf is scheduled to take place at Chateau Begude. We cannot go there for lunch as that nice lady decorator is still embarrassed by our antics when we had lunch there last week, so at least there is a fair chance we will remember this time to pick up our golf clubs before leaving.

Chris France

3 Comments leave one →
  1. Linda Keirl permalink
    August 17, 2011 10:03 am

    Your picture of the fireworks in Cannes reminded me of many a happy visit to Cannes and the South of France in the good years when my late husband was alive. I have been since on several occasions with my daughter but still long for an extended holiday down there again.



  2. Julie permalink
    August 17, 2011 12:09 pm

    George Osborne


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