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Accrington Stanley Asti Spumanti

September 12, 2011

So the invitation to lunch yesterday with Peachy Butterfield and the lovely Suzanne yesterday was the lovely occasion that we expected. Their new house on, some may say, the less salubrious northern side of Valbonne, where these simple folk from the north of England seem very content is very comfortable. Lunch took place on the terrace of their new residence situated between the correctional school and the council tip, which is clearly a move forward from their normal accommodation in the north of England. It was and is charming, and the food and drink supplied of the highest quality, if one is accustomed to northern hospitality. The Accrington Stanley Asti Spumanti was a triumph, certainly as far as the northern contingent were concerned, and I took this picture to record the success of the offering.

A northern tipple

Clearly this wine is of a quality to which I have yet to become accustomed, and to which I have no intention of becoming accustomed at any stage in the future. Cheeky is one adjective which may be properly applied to this viticultural offering, indeed it is an adjective which was constantly on my lips whenever Suzy was nearby. During a less than coherent rant after a couple of home-made mohitos, Peachy made mention of ” a milf unction” which apparently occurred during the sending of an email. It seems that the epithet “Milf” has some meaning that I do not feel is relevant to discuss, but may involve male lust directed towards young mothers.

I mentioned that the lawn could do with a cut but the reaction from Peachy was brutal. It seems that getting the lawn mower from the garage to the lawn is a very tricky enterprise and what he told me literally was that he does not like “humping the lawnmower”. Now as much as I like him, it is not often I agree with him but this seemed to me to be some sort of commentary about life, or rather some of the activities which pass for entertainment, in the north if England, but on this occasion, I found that I had a certain synergy with his expressed opinion. It seems that he humped the lawnmower down but she, (Suzanne, his long-suffering wife humped it up). The mind boggles, but I make no comment. I feel it my duty just to report facts faithfully. Interpretation of these are for others.

This week will start quietly, a walk on the Valmasque this morning will give way to serious hard work on both Currencies Direct and Medina Palms, and of course the promotion of the bidding literary sensation that is my book, “Summer In the Core d’Azur”, prequel to the rather predictable ‘Winter In The Cote d’Azur” which will follow into the literary world as night follows day.

Old friend Gregory Carlin asks for a signed copy, but fails to focus on the fact that an ebook is a little tricky to sign, however I will happily sign his Ipad should he wish to send it to me. In the comments section he reminds me that to him work was a four letter word, so he would get me to do his for him. Such are the advantages of being born into money, rather than to earn it.

Meetings on Tuesday in Cannes and Thursday in Sophia Antipolis presage a really busy week, so I will have to take it easy on the intervening days, to keep my strength up, especially with tennis in the diary for Wednesday evening, however that nice lady decorator as mumbling something about the cement mixer last night, and that is not usually a sign conducive to me well-being.

Chris France

2 Comments leave one →
  1. Rev. Jeff permalink
    September 12, 2011 12:48 pm

    Does Mr. Butterfield own a Mountfield mower by any chance ?

    Like

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