Superbowl with a twist

Limone Piemont is a pretty village ski resort on the western edge of Italy just over 2 hours drive from Valbonne, and to where we were headed yesterday having taken a couple of days leave from my duties with Currencies Direct. The travel time passed in a trice as we were in the car with Mr Clipbeard and his lovely wife  Mrs Clipear as she became known after threatening something similar if she was ever mentioned again in this column.

On the way I was asked if I was excited about the prospect of selling my house in the UK which has been on the market for seven years and further asked if it had been firmed up. I responded by saying that it was very exciting but I preferred to keep private how this excitement manifested itself in my personal being.

So we arrived at Limone just in time for the sunshine to disappear and be replaced by a ferocious snow storm, so there was little option but not to ski and to have lunch instead and see if it would clear. I think it was over the third cognac that the realisation became certainly that the snowstorm was developing into a sensational blizzard.

After a few more cognac’s the natural shyness of the public schoolboys with whom I was lunching began to recede. For some reason the discussions had turned to the relative merits of the poor  (literally) comprehensive school and grammar school children.  When I suggested that there may be some differentiation between these two intellectually diverse groups (the Reverend Jeff will immediately recognise his status in this context, having himself attended a comprehensive school as a result of failing his 11 plus) the public schoolboys guffawed and declared that as far as they were concerned all were oiks.

During lunch I was intrigued by the fireplace at the Ange Blanc at the base of the Limonetto ski slope, our venue for lunch, that was open on both sides. At one stage Mr Clipbeard suggested that I crawl through the fire so that he could take a photo. He had  the clear intention of re-enacting a scene from Tom Browns school days when a “fag” was roasted over a fire for insubordination. As I was obviously cast to play the part of the fag I decided against an acting career.

I had a picture of this potential fire storm ready for today’s missive and it may yet rise to the top for publication. In days to come but it was superceded by today’s photo which I took of the TV in the bar.

I think they were saying 36-24-38

Let me explain; we were finishing lunch when my attention was drawn to the TV screen which was showing a programme which turned out to be the lingerie Superbowl in America. I jest not. A number of scantily clad ladies were playing American Football and I managed to take several pictures of the action of which this is the only one I can reproduce.

The problem with a very interesting central fireplace being open on both sides is that when one opens a window or a door a significant amount of smoke from the fire enters the room, but with ski goggles to hand the problem was solved.

After brief siesta it was time for dinner at Aracador where we are staying, a tiny hotel/restaurant with just 4 guest rooms and inaccessible except by snow mobile after the ski lifts have closed. I have a vague recollection of events that involved several men ending up naked on the brightly lit terrace in the 50 mile an hour blizzard at midnight. Any suggestion that one of these people was me is denied and suggestions to the contrary will result in proceedings issued by my lawyers Sue, Stoppit and Lye. Furthermore, should pictures emerge of this alleged event they will clearly have been fabricated.

Chris France