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Beaten with a frying pan?

September 8, 2011

It was after a late morning coffee at Cafe Latin that I caught Tim “up the” Swanee from Home Hunts down at the cash point machine again, shaking his head for reasons I cannot fathom. One of the richest estate agents in the cote d’Azur, perhaps he was just trying to throw off the effects of last nights hangover, or perhaps a wasp was bothering him? He has so far been unable to throw his lot in with Currencies Direct, being forced due to circumstances of some murky deal trapping him into using the services of some no doubt inferior rival. Perhaps the head shaking was an unconscious recognition of missed opportunities? I would like to think so.

Lunch was taken as predicted at Cafe Des Arcades in Valbonne Square with old music biz associate Brian Scholfield and his lovely wife Helen, whose address in England is Crazies Hill. I make no further comment except to say my pizza with honey and fig was wonderful.

Last night, in recognition of the fact that at college, he will be unable anymore to eat and drink me out of house and home, when he leaves for Guildford at the weekend, we took my son and his lovely girlfriend to La Menthe Deuce in Mougins, a fantastic looking place as my picture today endeavours to capture but with less than ringing endorsements for its Moroccan food from several accounts. It was however his choice, so I had no choice, but contrary to these accounts it was excellent.

Le Menthe Deuce at Mougins

Today, after fawning at the feet of my book editor Dawn Howard at Cafe Latin, I must go to the airport to collect some leading lights in Medina Palms, who have sought my expertise to ensure the quick sale of the last few houses on this magnificent development in Kenya on the famous Watamu Beach.

They are here for the launch of Remax-Cannes, to which you are all invited just behind the Palais Stephanie in Cannes at 9 Rond Point Duboys Angers anytime between 10am and 8pm.

Before that, tennis at The Vignale later this afternoon. Not usually considered a contact sport, it may become so if Mr Clipboard is on the winning side, unless due to the vagaries of splitting up the stronger players, I find he will be my partner, in which case he will be feeling my racket (if I may say such a thing) if we lose, which of course would not be admitted in this column.

Recently I came home from lunch to find that nice lady decorator working in the bathroom and singing “its a heartache, nothing but a heartache” and I thought to myself, that’s a Bonnie Tiler (thanks Pete!).

The Reverend Jeff finally makes contact after failing in his promise to make contact when on holiday from the UK near St Tropez. He had previously told me that he could “beat me with a frying pan”. To me, this is not an opinion that a person of his religious bent and piety should be making on any subject, but it turns out he was referring to a proposed tennis match between us. I had interpreted his failure to make contact as a sign of weakness, an admission of my inevitable superiority over him in all sports, and indeed, I firmly believe that his being rushed to hospital for some unspeakable ailment, so unpleasant that I cannot go into details here (suffice to say it was a close call whether Dynarod should have stepped into the breach as it were), was an excuse. Anyway it appears, if one believes this twaddle, that he was so ill that he was in slight danger of meeting with his god a little before his properly appointed time. Regular readers will know that my sense of compassion and fair play are sufficiently underdeveloped to the point where I am certain this is either an elaborate hoax or it is a psychosomatic kind of self harming, just to avoid the inevitable defeat at my hands. I don’t do sympathy.

Chris France

3 Comments leave one →
  1. Pinman permalink
    September 8, 2011 9:03 am

    “Angers anytime between 10am and 8pm.”

    Sits well with your “Grumpy” blog on Mondays !


  2. Rev. Jeff permalink
    September 8, 2011 11:39 am

    Interesting that Dyn’O’rod should spring to mind when thinking about me. You obviously remember that there are some sports you could never beat me at!!

    I wasn’t quite at deaths door -maybe just entering the front gate. However I heartily recommend the hospital at Gassin to any of your readers unfortunate enough to need hospital treatment. Some gorgeous nurses(female !) and a lot like a hotel. I was amused tho when my Consultant demanded 150 euros in cash before I was allowed to leave ! Couldn’t imagine that happening in Blighty. Loved the Bonnie Tyler joke.


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