Jehovah to the rescue

By the time you are reading this, I will have had to get up twenty minutes before I went to bed in order to catch a ridiculously early flight to the UK, or rather a slightly late flight from the night before. That I shall be grumpy is a given, but the chance of some fine weather and the prospect of a pint of London Pride takes away the complete drudgery of it all.

Yesterday, immense progress was made for the so-called “paunch launch”, the literary luncheon where I shall be speaking and signing copies of my first book,“Summer In the Cote d’Azur” rather appropriately some may think, on Halloween. I have ordered the neon bowler hat flashing the word “author” and a directors chair bearing the same description to ensure that nobody is unaware of my correct title. As to the details? soon, very soon. Suffice to say that TV stars will be there and a larger venue may be required.

Ten days or so ago, after the Bistro Rally, I took this photo from the Port De La Rague near Mandelieu where we had just woken up in Bluebell the camper, after a very heavy day and night, to the most wonderful Cote d’Azur light and took this picture looking over towards Mandelieu and Cannes. It seems clear to me that as soon as I  have succeeded as an author, which is almost imminent, then photography could be the next creative bastion to fall victim to my talents. I might even buy a camera.

Port de la Rague taken by a rogue

So London today, well Gatwick, and then a trip to Guildford to fill up my son with food, drink and almost inevitably cigarettes for another month. In fact lunch is due to be taken in Elstead in Surrey, home of a venerable old aunt who has on occasions deigned to read this column, but only when it has been photocopied and placed in the smallest room in the house. Before that I shall be collecting together all my Jehovah’s witness literature to place on the seat alongside me on the Easyjet executive jet to ensure that I have an empty place alongside on the arduous trip back to the homeland. Arduous is  strange word. One would think that its genus would be in adore, more implying love, unless you find love hard work, but I can make no comment here. This for some unaccountable reason reminds me that in have a significant wedding anniversary coming up this weekend. I looked up what might be a traditional gift for such a mammoth event and it seems that china is the accepted traditional gift to mark  a twenty year sentence. That nice lady decorator likes tea, so a nice cup of china tea should see the job done.

Thereafter back into London for either a publishers lunch at the Groucho or to meet up with an old Australian mate in London for a few days. The latter is more likely as I am convinced that although my time as an unknown author is limited, these publishers will want to know me soon, that and my lawyer Nigel Davies (otherwise known as Al Yiddly, the northern Jewish lawyer) at Davenport Lyons is uncertain he can secure tickets. His future engagement in a serious legal battle I am about to unleash may be in jeopardy (along with his swingeing fees)  if he gets this wrong. Then on Friday night another sprog will need feeding up and watering for the next month. Don’t they know their dear old dad is broke? at least until the inevitable book royalties and film fees begin to roll in. I feel that at that stage Currencies Direct services will be much in demand.

Chris France