Ski or lunch?

There really is nothing better in winter in the sunshine other than to be in a pretty ski resort, do some un-taxing skiing and then have lunch in the sunshine. My explanation to Currencies Direct that I was heading up into the mountains to search for new customers was dismissed with the contempt it richly deserved.

It was not frenetic skiing by any means and with dinner last night scheduled at the big man’s house with Peachy Butterfield and his delectable wife Susie it was clearly imperative that we returned from Greoliere Les Neiges in time for a siesta in advance of last evenings hostilities, which were far more interesting than yesterdays hostilities.

Just as I was slipping into the bed sheets after a skiing and lunch having cheerily removed my smoking jacket and cravat that nice lady decorator said to me what I heard as “what I really need is a good screwing”. That was when the trouble started. It seemed that rather than referring to winter sports of the bedroom variety she was referring to her reading light, supplied by a screw-in bulb which had fused. At that moment I felt much the same, but whereas her problem was easily resolved by the insertion of a new one, my problem was solved by….I am not sure where I am going with this, suffice to say that one of my jobs today will be to go to the supermarket and stock up on screw-in light bulbs.

Greoliere under a metre of new snow

So to dinner last night with the voyeur of viognier, the crown prince of prosecco, the Chester big cheese of Chardonnay, Peachy himself, newly returned from Christmas in the UK and desperately in need to some south of France fun and frivolity.

The evening did not start well. I am at best ambivalent about cement mixers, but Peachy and that nice lady decorator were quickly engrossed in a discussion about the relative merits of petrol driven or electrical powered cement mixers. All I knew was that having spent a good part of my career and a chunk of this week at MIDEM involved in the organization of music mixing and re mixing, I felt that work time was over and preferred talking about wine or indeed sex, but more of that later (talk I mean).

Later on it emerged that Peachy, in search of a new career direction, particularly one that allows him to remain in the south of France somewhat more than now is the case has come up with a master plan. He is going to sell curtains. For a moment I considered using an old joke about a salesman traveling in ladies underwear which I have chosen to avoid but given the bright colors he always wears I did not have the heart to say to him that if he took it on he would be traveling in curtains.

If you live down here you will have noticed a distinct lack of curtains in most houses. This is due in main to the local propensity for shutters, negating the need for this outdated English obsession. I pointed this out to Le Peach Enorme but he was not down hearted, far from it, in fact he asked me for the number of Mr Humphreys, firstly no doubt to see if he was free, secondly to ask his advice about colors in general and curtains in particular. Regular readers will know that Mr Humphreys is my style guru with a track record of wearing bright colors and garments that often look to me like curtains so to me the connection was obvious. Anyway, it seems that shortly we shall all be able to purchase top quality curtain material locally. I told him not to give up his day job if he ever got one.

Chris France