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Closing in on a grape escape

January 16, 2012

Yesterday I rather naively mentioned the word “dash” in the context of a trip to Gatwick. Well, getting to Gatwick from London was the usual horrible packed sweaty trip but at least the train was on time, the “dash” bit fell apart when we got to the airport. Because it was a Sunday I presume that was the reason only five security aisles were open, whilst at least the same number were closed. Has it dawned on the imbeciles who run the airport that the numbers of people traveling at the weekends may be the same or perhaps more than a normal weekday? What is the point of having shiny new facilities then not manning them, is there a shortage of willing recruits looking for jobs?

The comparison to a well run airport, Nice, could not be more stark. When traveling in to London on Thursday from France’s second busiest airport there was no waiting either at passport control or security. You may wonder where this is going (back to France of course) and the reason is that I feel like I am escaping back to the land of good wine and the vine, and this is my contrived link to my picture today takes of one of the stalls at the Currencies Direct sponsored The France Show called The Grape Escape.

Could temperance be described as a grape escape?

This may be a reason to wine about the writing but marc my words, you will chardonnay never be bordeaux, reading this pile of Pomerol. Ok, wine jokes over, on with the column.

Today I will be busy following up all the people desperate to throw of the shackles of their banks whom I have met over the past few days in England. This valuable work on behalf of Currencies Direct yesterday was only interrupted by a filmed interview I was required to give, not in support of my book although god knows it needed it on a Sunday (this is just to get regular readers the Reverend Jeff’s juices going) but perhaps to be part of Otway The Movie later this year.

It seems that the producer was interested in the story about me paying for Otway’s first record in 1972. Much like anyone who has loaned money to the Greeks, I am still waiting for its’ repayment, without too much hope. Otway tells me that he has already sold out the Royal Circle of the London’s Odeon Leicester Square for the Premiere of the film, tickets to which entitles the buyer to be a co-producer of the movie. It looks certain to be the film with the longest credits in history, perhaps even exceeding the length of the film itself. I believe I myself am to be described as a co-creditor rather than a co-producer.

So normality resumes today and with it another soon to be doomed attempt at abstinence, the target this time is Friday when I shall be a guest at the Red Radish secret supper, so secret that I am not certain it is happening and have no idea where it is to take place. Hopefully enlightenment awaits.

MIDEM, the annual music business shindig takes place in Cannes later in the month so I shall need to prepare over the coming weeks. The only meeting I have scheduled is with my northern Jewish lawyer, Al Yiddley who has offered to buy me dinner, an expense that will no doubt reappear on my next disbursements bill I receive from him. He has a wonderful sense of humour, best exhibited when it is time to send me an invoice.

Chris France

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