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Kebab or sex?

September 2, 2011

That nice lady decorator said to me last night that I only want to have sex is when I am drunk, but that’s not true, sometimes I want a kebab.

Yesterday into Cannes to meet with Icelandic Gudrun, from Remax Cannes who is having an opening event for her new shop/office next Friday 9th September, and guess what? You are all invited! Anytime between 10am and 8pm she (and I) will be welcoming anyone who would like to drop by with coffee, nibbles or a glass of wine. The premises are just behind The Marriott Hotel on the Croisette in Cannes. Of course if you do visit you may be subject to what the Americans call an “elevated pitch” about the benefits of Currencies Direct or indeed the joys of owning a property at Medina Palms in Kenya. An elevated pitch is not, as I originally thought, a tent on a piece of high ground, but a concentrated sales effort crammed into a short space of time. I think the concept grew out of a horrid American idea of trying to sell something to someone else in a lift, (an elevator pitch?) because for a short time you will have their attention because they cannot get away.

So we left Remax just as the sun passed the yard arm. It was impossible for that nice lady decorator (who had at the last minute accompanied me to Cannes) to pass a pub serving Guinness without stopping to sample the wares, so I was forced to stop at the very salubrious Railway Tavern opposite the railway station in Cannes to allow her to satisfy her thirst. It would of course have been rude of me to allow her to drink alone, so I was forced to order a pint.. After all, I could not risk the damage to my reputation that could have ensued if I were to be sipping a tonic water or an orange juice whilst that nice lady decorator downed a pint of Guinness. Her excuse is that she had felt a bit dizzy (this was before the Guinness) and that she felt she perhaps had an iron deficiency. I had previously suggested that as a man’s “love juice” is full of iron, that I would selflessly administer her an infusion of the missing element, but that laser beam look that I know so well reappeared and I decided to change the subject rapidly.

Before we left Cannes, I was able to take this picture on the walk from the station to the Remax office. As you can see there are a number of obstacles of a different kind that can impede one on one’s way betwixt station and office, but I cannot recall quite these diversions when commuting from Euston to Tottenham Court Rd to my old office in London’s Soho in the 1990’s.

The journey from major terminus to office can be so irksome don't you think?

Last night, as if we needed another boozy social occasion, we were invited by Peachy Butterfield and gorgeous wife Suzie to dine with them as a thank you for providing an escape route for their daughter Lucy from the atrocious UK summer weather. Looking whiter than a sheet, in fact slightly blue from two months away from the south of France sunshine, I suspect it will take them a few days to turn white before being able to resume normal tanning levels expected in this part of the world. A full report of events will have to wait for tomorrow for reasons of space and clarity.

Chris France

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