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Flipper lives!

February 22, 2012

This is uncharted territory. Three days without a drink and I am beginning to get hallucinations. For instance I saw this picture on Wayne Browns Facebook page a few days ago and my first thought was that the red snappers were a trifle overdone. Turns out they are shoes designed to help a girl through an evening aboard an Italian Cruise liner.  I have been accused of being flippant in the past but never flipperent.

These are more like slappers than slippers

Talking of girls shoes, if any of you are unlucky enough to be cognisant of Peachy Butterfield’s Facebook page you will know that this is one of his fetishes, that and travelling in ladies curtains which I believe he is about to commence. I shall be taking this up at lunch with him today.

So a quiet day yesterday, with the morning spent in Cafe Latin guiding a pretty young thing into becoming an affiliate of Currencies Direct. The lovely Emma is an agent for something called, a company specialising in rentals for parents with young kids, a great concept because these types of parents are not tied to school holidays, yet.

Talking of children, I am slated to play tennis this morning with the Naked Politician, he having been allowed out of sight of the hand brake as he refers to his beautiful wife, Dawn, to play tennis then have lunch at the Auberge St Donat. Modesty forbids me to revel in the scale of my victory last time out, against a man who has had scores even hundreds of tennis lessons, has lost 10 kilos and is at least 10 years younger than me, but I can reveal that in two sets he did win one game but only at the expense of  an injury to his hand sustained in a diving save to secure that one small victory.  I need not tell you that after 3 days without a drink I am expecting a mighty fine lunch and have blocked out the afternoon for err…. consultation and quiet study, although with my hammock broken and that nice lady decorator having instructed the removal of one of the trees which used to support it, I am slightly concerned as to where this siesta quiet contemplation will take place.

The details have been settled for my talk to all those lovely ladies at Premier Mardi at La Pomme Rouge Deli in Valbonne on Thursday evening at 7pm. I have received and taken on board my instructions from the redoubtable and gorgeous Karen Hockney, co-founder and organiser of this group.  Even now I expect the police are moving the crowd barriers into place, after all, it is a narrow pavement and we don’t want people falling into the road in an effort to leave after hearing my speech. It is no good dressing up in female clothing in order to gate crash, although I suspect Mr Humphrey’s (if he was free) may not have to do anything too radical, such is his stylish ability to embrace both sides of the fashion divide. It should surprise no one that I shall also be making myself available to sign copies of my book at this event. Please queue in an orderly fashion and if you are camping outside this evening to ensure your place at this glittering event then you need therapy.

Looking further ahead, I see dinner on Friday night,  perhaps golf on Saturday with the Landlubbers, Sunday lunch at ours, although the guest list has not yet been revealed to me, I do hope I shall be invited, especially as I am almost certainly paying.

Chris France

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