The English Patient

To say that she is a poor patient is a bit like saying Steven Hawking is mildly disabled, or that Currencies Direct  do a little bit of foreign exchange. That nice lady decorator, usually a bubbly bright busy amusing and beautiful is……still all those things but when injured, most of these qualities are hidden. Her ability to delegate by way of orders delivered in a staccato style stream is well known to those close to her, but her own enforced inactivity seemed to lend a new sense of urgency to the usual torrent of dictaks issued. I know of slaves that have had less to do than I did yesterday.

A twisted ankle sustained not on the ski slopes of Limone but on a small patch of ice on the terrace has resulted in our household being adorned with the likes of crutches, leg supports, and resonating to the continuing stream of those instructions and demands. The irony of the fact that two very expensive sprogs, newly returned home from various educational campuses have both failed to grab the opportunity to begin to repay their long suffering and now economically challenged parents for their continuing input seems to have escaped them.

The French health system lived up to its high quality reputation, within 2 hours we had driven to the Tzank hospital in Mougins, seen a doctor, had an x-ray, had a diagnosis (sprained) received a prescription and driven home, and half an hour of that was traveling to and fro. Fantastic service. The doctor warned her that she must do no sport for ten days, but clearly that applied just to skiing and walking and had no effect on the kind of sports that I like to call bedroom olympics, which I may have previously referred to as sport. It means however that the skiing trip to Limone this coming week will involve more sitting than skiing. I wonder if she will take on board any fashion tips from this chap on a sitting trip to Limone himself last week.

I wonder if he was feeling blue?

A whole day spent on the sofa was far too long a time for her to stay still so, the family were detailed to take that nice lady decorator out to the pub in Valbonne, the Queens Legs for early doors, and to test whether she could still deal with the sport of drinking a few pints of Guinness whilst standing on one leg. I am pleased to be able to report success. For such a petite person I am constantly astonished at the speed and the amount of beer she can drink. Last night was no exception.

I see that tomorrow nights opening might play “Barefoot In The Park” being staged at the Pre Des Arts in Valbonne starts at 7 30 pm, so just enough time for a sharpener before it gets underway. Tickets still available online or at the door on the night.

Premier Mardi (First Tuesday) is a regular gathering staged by international journalist and Karen Hockney and Fiona Macleod both local residents which as its name suggests sets out to meet on the first Tuesday of each month. They have kindly invited me to speak to their group at their next meeting on Thursday 23rd of February at La Pomme Rouge in Valbonne. Some of you may have spotted that Thursday 23rd is not the first Tuesday of the month, and I admit that my first instinct would have been to have some fun with the fact that this networking forum aimed at women in the Riviera wanting to set up a business was called First Tuesday was staging this months meeting on the third Thursday of the month, however, as there is a chance of selling some copies of my book and finding some clients for Currencies Direct, I sensibly decided to make no mention of it.

Chris France