Faked photograph shock?

I had not been to Cafe Latin for church, the worship of coffee and gossip on market day in Valbonne where customers new and old of Currencies Direct tend to gather for some weeks. I had been promised a coffee by my style guru Mr Humphreys (if he was free) in place of dinner at a top class restaurant at his expense that had been lavished on others to celebrate his birthday, but no matter, it is the thought that counts, and he had obviously thought my relative merit as his friend deserved a two euro cup of coffee rather dinner at up market eaterie La Jarriere at Biot to which others higher up the pecking order than me had been invited and had fine food and wine lavished upon them. Both myself and Cubby Wolf who was there were wearing purple cashmere sweaters in deference to the Mr Humphreys style.

Mention was made of certain naked events that had allegedly taken place late at night in a snowstorm in Limone earlier in the week and I was subject to some chortling and sleding as opposed to sledging. People who have seen photographs, one of which purports to have me as a subject have clearly been faked. Of course I was anxious to steer the conversation away from such events which may or may not have happened.

I don’t know how we got to on to the subject of Egypt but given one member (there we go again) of the sordid company I have kept over the past few days whilst skiing at Limone, and the constant sexual innuendo pervading every conversation, his expression “taking me up the Nile” made be feel a tad uncomfortable.

Mr Humphreys (who obviously has some time free) also confessed to the congregation that he was about to start a welding and metal work course. For a man who wears purple and mauve at least as well as any woman and has avoided obvious gainful employment for so long this seemed a rather extreme new career direction upon which to embark. Personally I am a little suspicious of the exact nature of the allure presented by attending such a class, no doubt wearing a nice fetching pastel coloured outfit, crammed full of a number of strong, hulking, well-built, perspiring, testosterone charged males, but then who am I to judge?  When confronted about just that question he alluded to the film Flash Dance which I must admit has not been at the top of my “must see” list where one of the major figures was apparently a dancing welder. I invite you to draw your own conclusions.

Now to my picture today. It was taken earlier in the week at Arracador, the charming boutique hotel in Limone across the Italian border reachable only by skidoo or on skis in winter. The skidoo can take just three passengers so, as were six people in total in the party I volunteered to be one of the last to leave, a bit like the captain of a ship, although we were in Italy where the modern way seems to be that the captain tends to leave first, but I digress. Captain Clipbeard was first aboard in the advance party and kindly changed into this costume and hid in my bathroom  to surprise me when I arrived. I think you will know how much this pleased me.

One can see from this how easy it is to fake photographs

Last night after collecting sprog 2 from the airport to complete the full set of family locusts ready to devour my food and drink in the coming week, we ventured directly to  The Valbonnaise to attempt to blunt teenage appetites before allowing them near my larder or drinks fridge. It did not work and cost more money because we arrived too late, went to the Queens Legs for a swift pint of Guinness and bought take away pizzas and then they started on my drinks cabinet anyway.

Chris France