MOGS triumph

The resumption of tennis hostilities flared up again last night. After a frankly rather poor show over the summer with any number of excuses being employed to avoid running around in the heat, the arrival of more comfortable September weather enabled the resumption of the MOGS (the moustachiod old gits) supremacy over their much younger rivals, but more of that later.

Earlier in the week, all four tennis combatants had been crew aboard racing yacht L’Exocet for the Bistro Rally. Celebrations surrounding our victory were as intense as they were drawn out. The first beer was taken aboard on board before 11am just as the race was getting underway and it was nearly 3am the next morning when myself and that nice lady decorator stumbled into Bluebell, parked in the port, to sleep.

Amongst those celebrating to the fullest extent was the owner of a well-known villa rental and management enterprise, whom I cannot identify here. Clearly thirsts were running high, so high it seems that the wine, stored in bladders from wine boxes (it being deemed too dangerous to allow bottles on board) was in danger of running out. In an entirely unrelated picture, I managed to capture a photograph of Greg Harris from Cote d’Azur Villa Rentals finding an interesting way of removing the last vestiges of wine from one of these bladders.

Greg Harris practising what looks like a blow job

So, back to the tennis. You may think that a scoreline of 6-2, 6-1, 6-0 was a thrashing of the highest order and you would be right. Modesty precludes my relaying to you who were the winners, but as was discussed at dinner after the match, had I been on the the losing side there would have been no mention of it in this factual account of the daily lives of the idle rich in Valbonne. This is as cruel and vicious an accusation as it is true, but as I explained, sometimes there are competing items of news or of local interest which squeeze out the reporting of bad results, but I am happy to find sufficient space today.

Of course discussion about this column sent the wingco’s lip curling and I distinctly heard the word “ghastly” amongst the rumblings emanating from the area somewhere beneath his moustache. He does so hate this column, but also detests the fact that it is often talked about in his company, and often admired. Indeed the more perceptive amongst my readers will already be aware that it has been adapted into a book “Summer In The Cote d’Azur” available now for Kindle and Ipad, and in paperback from Halloween onwards. It seems that Amazon do not like the French banking system, as I have heard from distressed potential buyers that some French bank cards do not work when ordering on line. I have taken this up with Amazon and expect a solution shortly. In the meantime it can be bought through Amazon.com in US$.

It is my lot today once again to be on the commuter train to Cannes with my metaphorical oil can, easing the wheels and cogs of industry, but I fully intend to have completed my tasks  before lunch, and will deservedly allow myself to lunch on the beach as a reward. As the working week stretches towards the weekend, I feel I shall deserve a rest after today’s trials and tribulations.

So far, I have not mentioned today the services of Currencies Direct. I thought that you perhaps deserved a day off from receiving the message about the best way to move foreign exchange around. I will say however, that I have been provisionally invited by them to the France Show next January to sign copies of my book!

Chris France