A “wingco”, a measure of time

I hear that a couple of muslim chaps rammed their boat into the dam at Lac St Cassien near Frejus a few weeks ago, apparently it was the start of ram-a-dam.

The ending of Ramadan is of course a time of feasting after dark and although it has not ended yet, we decided it was OK for non muslims to feast, so last night we went to Port de la Rague near Mandelieu.

Having accepted an invitation to see the last firework festival of the summer in Cannes, this time staged by Italy, from the sea-side rather than from the town as we had last week from The Quays Irish pub on the port, this week was a significant move up market. We were invited aboard l’Exocet, a splendid sailing yacht with a name that belies it speed for the evening. The invitation said 7pm, but once aboard, I discovered that the wingco was also invited. This of course often throws the best laid plans into disarray as he is always late.  I asked the owner John Mundell what time they expected him and John’s luscious wife Zilla said he was also told 7 sharp, but they knew he would be late, expected him at 7.30 and that 8 30 was the cut off time.  So at 8 29 and about ready to cast off without him, we spotted him running down the quay carrying his guitar.

A little earlier, whilst waiting over a very convivial drink aboard l’Exocet, discussion turned to the widely known measure of time called a “wingco”.  The wingco’s habitual lateness is renowned locally to the extent that he has a unit of time by which he is late named after him; a “wingco”. I had not fully appreciated that this measure of time varies depending upon which activity he is attending. For instance a “tennis wingco” is a no less annoying but far smaller seven minutes. A “dinner wingco” can stretch for up to an hour and last night a “yachting wingco” was established at a full hour and a half.

Of course he was forgiven when the guitar came out and a discreet veil should be drawn over the rest of the evening but suffice to say all the fireworks that were let off were magnificent, even those from the boat itself,  and I shall remember for a long time the rendition by the entire party of “Jumping Jack Flash” at 2am, before we realised that the singing and ribaldry which had started after the fireworks had finished, and with us surrounded by yachts, had deservedly lost its entire audience and we were alone in the water. My picture today endeavours to catch some of the spectacle in the skies. I was torn between this picture and some other pictures of a spectacle aboard the boat, but they will have to wait for another day, if I have the balls.

Fireworks in Cannes, but were there fireworks on the boat?

There are a number of silly stories going around at the moment, the one I like the best tells the story of Mtembi Olongo, who is just 13 years old and has to walk 10 miles each day to find food and drink. Why should this be? Because the little bastard burned down all the shops in Tottenham where he lived and now he has to go shopping in Brent.

Today, more Currencies Direct work and more Medina Palms activity will keep me busy all morning, well, from 11am until nearly 12, when obviously it will be time for lunch, however I may have a rather quiet day today after the excessive celebrations last night.

Chris France