Granny racing?

The annual hunt for Christmas presents worthy of ones friends and family is a constant challenge but is now firmly underway. Inspiration can come from anywhere, and personally I find shops are not the most fertile of places for ideas. Sometimes, when least expecting it you just see something and you just know it is perfect. Just such an event took place on Monday evening whilst enjoying the Currencies Direct first annual Christmas dinner in the old town in Nice. Pictures allegedly exist of that evening but due to a day spent threatening, cajoling and bullying I am reasonably confident none will reach the public domain. My excuse for consuming what an ex girl friend used to call “an elegant sufficiency” was that my driver for the evening, the diminutive Christine Bryant, had earlier revealed that her night vision was really quite poor. When, you may ask did she revel this quite pertinent fact? Just as we reached 80 miles (120 kms) per hour in the middle lane of the A8, our local motorway on the way to Nice. Some justification then I would contend for attempting to block out the return journey.

We were all charged with bringing a gift to exchange at the end of the evening. If you have read yesterday’s column then you will know that as a result the new Managing Director of Currencies Direct is now the proud owner of a signed copy of my book. Not for him joining the inevitable queues that will form outside the English Book Centre in Valbonne this coming Friday where I shall once again be providing an opportunity to purchase a perfect and personalised gift. I myself was not quite so lucky. I received some oil in a spam tin, the use of which escapes me, but will probably come in handy for burnishing a saddle if I had one, but one lucky person secured an intriguing gift which I picture today.

Christmas party games, a new twist in place of twister?

Granny Racing looks like it could be great fun, but I wonder what it entails? Does one race against a granny or does one back ones own granny against someone else’s? I wish I had received that gift if only to find out what it was all about.

Yesterday I was suffering from a delayed Monday hangover. Because I was forced to go out to that dinner on Monday evening, the usual Sunday induced Monday hangover hung over until Tuesday, ie yesterday. Thus I decided with the festive season just about to envelope us all that I would have a quiet night in, well as quiet as is possible when in the company of that nice lady decorator with a party to organise. The Friday lunchtime exclusive Miche Bag presentation at our house has had its exclusivity watered down to the extent that anyone lacking the Y chromosome appears to have been invited. She has worked it out carefully. I will be sent out to get the champagne and pay for it, whilst she will receive any commission that may be earned from any sales. As that irritating Riviera Radio advert says at the moment “Its a good arrangement”, for her anyway, I have not yet managed to identify any benefits accruing to me.

Before a dinner engagement in Chateauneuf this evening, I have rashly agreed to go to Mandelieu this morning where I suspect I shall be subjected to the torment that is called Christmas shopping. I shall only be content if I can find my very own Granny Racing kit. I shall want to the fastest one, in fact an old Monty Python sketch featuring Hell’s Grannies comes to mind.

Chris France