Caught in The Mousetrap?

As I awoke yesterday, I should have known that the glowering skies that have suddenly replaced our sunny ones, albeit temporarily one hopes, that the omens were not good for the Peachy Butterfield lunch, but I was wrong. He and the lovely Suzanne were hosting lunch at their villa in Valbonne including the naked politician and his wife, plus Simon and Sarah Howes and sundry children which meant that there was a good chance of Montechristo No 2’s and Chateau Gloria, supplied by Simon, and something special emanating from Worksop from Peachy, and  was correct on both counts.

It seems that the nice lady decorator and I have a reputation for a short siesta, often during long drawn out lunches. I was not aware of that reputation until I came across these signs strategically placed signs on two sun loungers close to the pool yesterday as my picture today illustrates. It therefore seemed the right thing not to disavow our hosts of this erroneous impression they had mysteriously gained and we dutifully peeled off for a short sojourn at the appointed time.

His and hers matching siesta help pack

Luckily with the poor looking weather in the morning, the idea of Peachy’s barbecue of any animal he could find in the vicinity did not come to fruition (is that the right word or do I mean incineration?). In its place  the lovely Suzanne produced a magnificent repast without a hint of pigeon, whippet or ferret, and a great day was had although the naked politician remained fully clothed throughout due to close attention from the “handbrake” as his beautiful wife is known.

Today I must journey into Antibes for important Currencies Direct business, to save some lost Norwegian souls from the ravages of their bank when they buy a house in the area. I shall be meeting with Icelandic goddess Gudrun from Remax-Cannes and am hoping that it is rather a long meeting allowing me the chance of lunch under the sunny skies that have mercifully returned in Antibes.

Thereafter I am determined that my body will become a temple and I will engage in a period of worship. That is until Thursday when we fly off to dreary old England for a few days to “celebrate” twenty years of marriage and to see (if they have time in their busy schedules) our two sprogs who are both studying in England now. I suspect they will be pleased to see us if merely because it is near the end of the month and they will both be broke and will get fed. On Saturday, the big day, we are going to see The Mousetrap, that ancient Agatha Christie whodunnit nonsense of the type favoured by that nice lady decorator. It was an entirely democratic decision. I wanted to go and see something funny or lively, she  wanted to see The Mousetrap, so with one vote each, the chairwoman had the casting vote and The Mousetrap it was. In some ways it might be argued that it is an apt caption for our marriage. Who is the mouse?  Show me the cheese and all will be revealed. I am told that I am looking forward to it, so I must be. What I am definitely  looking forward to is a few pints of London Pride, hence the reason for a couple of days off the juice (to be confirmed) as I want to be on top form and ready for that first pint. Astonishingly the weather forecast for England for next week is great, with 25 degrees and sunny skies predicted. We shall see.

Chris France