Walking in a winter wonderland

With not a drop touching my lips on Tuesday evening, I was up and out of bed at the crack of nine yesterday morning and up for a good walk up the San Peyre Church at Mandelieu in the wonderful winter weather where I took today’s picture. From the top you can see right across the Mediterranean to Cannes and Antibes and behind that snow on the mountains of the southern Alps, a very uplifting sight for a tired old writer.

A fab day in winter on the Cote d'Azur

The bad news is that there are a lot of shops in Mandelieu and I don’t think that nice lady decorator missed one of them. Amongst those I can recall visiting before I glazed over and lost the will to live was the Asian supermarket where we bought boned (soon to be crispy) duck, chow mein and terriaki chicken for our planned less than traditional Christmas lunch. Personally I find eating turkey as pleasant as eating a mixture of cardboard and plasterboard, utterly dry and uninteresting, so a departure from tradition in this instance is OK by me.

After that, lumberjack duties called as a large oak by the swimming pool needed my attention. Aided by sprog 1, he was less than amused as I broke into that fine old Monty Python song “I’s a lumberjack and I’m alright” . The line he most objected to was “put on women’s clothing and hang around in bars”. That is the problem with the youth of today, no sense of humour. Thereafter I paid some attention to my dwindling Currencies Direct duties before Christmas, tidying up the last details of Medina Palms (that wonderful investment opportunity on the Indian Ocean in Kenya), and a brief planning session for my book signing on Friday at The English Book Centre in Valbonne.

The big news was dinner last night up at Chateauneuf De Grasse with Wayne Brown and Lucy. She is gorgeous and a fantastic cook. He is a Tottenham Hotspur supporter, need I say more? Somerset Maughan once described the south of France as a “sunny place for shady people”, so it was rather ironic to discover that Wayne, the creator of on line magazine FR2Day, has rented a flat in Somerset, otherwise there could be no connection between Wayne, Somerset the writer and Somerset the county and I will fight anyone who suggests there may be.

With that nice lady decorator in the later planning stages for her Miche Bag drinkathon for the girls (anyone interested, let me know?) on Friday lunchtime, the invitation to lunch with some of my tennis cohorts at the same time was an uplifting moment. However, there is mutiny in the ranks. A suggestion has been made that we go to La Source at Le Rouret rather than the Auberge St Donat, and it appears there are a few votes for this alternative venue. To me this is sacrilege and should not be contemplated. Traditionally all year, Friday has been Auberge Day, so to forsake it on the Friday before Xmas is totally unacceptable break with routine and I will not countenance it, unless of course there is a simple majority of those wishing to get to the Source, in which case I will go along with it, but only to emphasise the value of democracy.

Tonight we are going to venture into Valbonne as things are stirring. On the way through last night there was a huge light show lighting up the church and the mairie, and the 3 day Christmas Market has started which is a beautiful spectacle with red carpets throughout the old village centre and stalls lining most of the pretty cobbled streets. I feel a dinner coming on.