Premier Mardi on the third Thursday

Last night then in to Valbonne to talk to the assembled beauties who went to the Premier Mardi gathering at La Pomme Rouge. Premier Mardi is a networking group of (mostly) women in the area determined to allow people access to the information to help start a small business or to make their businesses work in France.

In a far-sighted example of that aim to disseminate knowledge vital to that business development they made the extremely wise decision to invite me to talk to this very attentive and stimulating group about the value of blogging and the benefits of opening an account with Currencies Direct for all your foreign exchange needs.

Such was the quality of intellect and glamour at the talk I was glad that Peachy Butterfield was not there as it would certainly not have helped what he memorable described earlier in the week as his “sperm retention headache”.

That nice lady decorator also came along to keep a close eye on me and Master Mariner Mundell arrived to be my roadie and book sales manager for the evening. So persuasive was he that 10 more books were sold. Just how persuasive (read irritating) he became was illustrated by one particularly lovely participant who paid him 10 euros not to bother her. I was a little embarrassed but a sale is a sale. One of the co-founders of the group, the lovely Fiona Macleod has been involved in art sales at the highest levels even dealing with the sale of Picasso’s so I thought today’s picture should be a nod towards the art world.

It's art Jim, but not as we know it

Earlier in the day I had played tennis. I played with Amanda Bay. That is the phrase I told her husband Anthony I was going to use. The Master Mariner who was Anthony’s partner seemed oblivious to the fact that one of his opponents was a waif like beauty who had not played for a year and repeatedly and rather unsportingly thrashed the ball past her at every opportunity. Perhaps he was upset by her very accurate description of his looking just like Dennis The Menace from the comic The Beano?  With his hooped red and black tennis shirt, dark trousers dark socks and unruly hair? Well, on the back half of his head anyway. It was a mistake anyone could have made.

Lunch was taken afterwards as is the tradition at the Auberge St Donat where some debate took place as to what value I could possibly bring to last nights event. My contention that wit, charm, personality and a rudimentary understanding of writing a blog was more than enough was dismissed in a chorus of guffaws accentuated by the very late arrival of the Wingco for a glass of wine. It gave him another opportunity to describe this daily column is his customary manner; “ghastly” but with several more h’s, phonetically more like “ghhhhhastly” in the way only a public schoolboy from an upper class family can master.

Confirmation of the growing stature of my writing, as if such were needed, came yesterday afternoon when I received a call from Peter Bennett from Blue Water Yachting asking me to write two lifestyle articles for him. As a successful author I thought for a nano second about haggling on the price until reality dawned and I gladly accepted the commission.

Friday means market day in Valbonne and church and the continuing worship of coffee which will take place at Cafe Latin this morning and there is talk of lunch and something a little stronger later in Valbonne Square in the suddenly warm spring sunshine. I shall need to see which direction summer style as exhibited by my style guru Mr Humphries is taking (if he is free) .

Chris France