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Not the way to serve fruit

August 31, 2011

I see The Stranglers are playing at the Palais in Cannes on 9th September, and I would have loved to have gone, however I have an invited to a big party the same night. Also, trying to book tickets can be a bit tricky. There was an Elvis Tribute show being staged there recently and I tried to get tickets but they kept saying press 1 for the money, press 2 for the show….. When I was a gig promoter in my younger days I once booked The Stranglers to play a show for me in 1976 at The Swan Hotel in Leighton Buzzard, but we had to cancel it because XTC, who played the week before, attracted so many people the ballroom floor was condemned by the authorities and the place shut down.

Days are always desultory after a skinful of rose, and yesterday was no different. A working siesta is in these circumstances a must, and the hammock provided an ideal venue to consider all the momentous decisions I have made recently, and the progress I have made with my work with Currencies Direct. One of those decisions was to forbid that nice lady decorator to go out last night to a girls drinks night on the grounds that she had consumed enough for several nights the evening before. That she totally ignored my command and arrived at her intended destination a little early was not a surprise.  One word from me and she does what she likes.

So the opportunity to spend an evening alone watching porn catching up on world affairs presented itself and was grasped with both hands in a manner of speaking, but in the end I found the kids had recorded some episodes of the excellent  Inbetweeners so I watched that instead.

The early morning walk up The Brague River from outside Valbonne up nearly to Biot, wonderful as it was, as my pictures pays scant homage to today,  did not have the desired effect of throwing off the damage caused by last night revelry, and thus a day of suffering was ensured.

The noise from this waterfall was deafening, at least for me with a serious headache

My old friend Peter Lynn comments that a bus station is where a bus stops, a train station is where a train stops, and on my desk I have a work station, and that pretty much sums up how I felt yesterday. But today is different. Barely a drop passed my lips last night and I am on tip-top form today whilst that nice lady decorator is suffering. You know how irritating it can be when you have a hangover and the people around you don’t and they are happy and bouncing? well that nice lady decorator does now.

For instance, that happy sound of a bustling kitchen in the morning, sun shining, excited chatter, the clatter of crockery being arranged for breakfast, the singing of the kettle, these are all sounds that I was able to enjoy this morning, but for some strange reason that nice lady decorator did not share my enthusiasm. I did well to catch the piece of fruit she threw at me, and rather charitably formed and expressed the opinion that I did want a fig after all, but throwing them at me was not the recommended way of serving it, at least not in any cook book I have ever read (OK, that bit was untrue, I have never read one).

So, to the week ahead? I have to go to Cannes tomorrow on important Medina Palms business, where I shall be meeting Icelandic goddess Gudrun from Remax-Cannes, then battening down the hatches for my kids going to college party on Friday when I have rather stupidly offered to be barman. My thought was that if I was a very slow barman for the evening, I might somehow be able to slow down the rate off teenage drinking, but given the numbers expected, I suspect this is a forlorn hope.

Chris France

2 Comments leave one →
  1. Julie permalink
    August 31, 2011 11:17 am

    one for the NLD
    An old woman was sipping on a glass of wine while sitting on the
    patio with her husband and she says,

    “I love you so much. I don’t know how I could ever live without

    Her husband asks, “Is that you or the wine talking?”

    She replies, “It’s me… talking to the wine.”


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