Cupcake lunacy

Taking time out from my activities with Currencies Direct I was on the way to the tip in my continuing role as white van man, the driver from hell, me, the guv, was listening to the delights of 3 Counties Radio, an audio offering from the BBC in Buckinghamshire. Once again I was piloting a large white van full of rubbish and “quality items for storage” before flying back to France last night. As is required by law when in charge of such a machine my language had degenerated into east end Wayne Brown speak which in normal circumstances I find utterly incomprehensible. It is amazing what powers you inherit when hiring a big white van. One can cut up other motorists with impunity, well, one does not notice the opprobrium directed at one as a result, previously unknown swear words appear and expel from one’s mouth without warning, one’s driving abilities are reduced to Neanderthal level, one’s middle finger takes on a life of its own and seems to be permanently erect and the ability to park badly in inappropriate places is honed to perfection. That reminds me, I must make a note to pay that parking ticket tomorrow.

Anyway, it was on the BBC, on the radio whilst I was driving about swearing, with my middle finger-pointing to the sky that I heard on the news a story about some poor girl for some unexplained reason being taken up the Ridgeway. The Ridgeway of course is a famous ancient track, now a footpath and bridleway that runs through the countryside of Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire and Bedfordshire, much loved by walkers or ramblers. Personally I have never been taken up the Ridgeway but hope it will come to pass at some stage.

The packing thing is not something with which I would normally be involved. Leaving England with as much of that aforementioned quality merchandise, on top of the genuinely exciting items purchased in Havana, such as my new Cohiba embossed humidor, I was faced with the unwelcome prospect of packing. That nice lady decorator normally takes care of all that irksome stuff, but even I was keenly aware that the vital purchase of this new humidor as a home for my cigar supply has had the effect of reducing luggage space for those normal things one normally packs in suitcases, like clothes. What does one do when one has insufficient room for one’s purchases and necessities? Get a bigger suitcase, therefore I sent that nice lady decorator out with exactly that in mind. My photograph today records the result.

Cupcake heaven

Don’t get me wrong, I like cupcakes. I am very partial to the cupcakes made both by Karen Krazycakes and Lucy from Red Radish, I just did not necessarily want my traveling valises to be adorned with them. An open and shut  (suit)case proving that you cannot always have your cake and eat it.

We arrived a Heathrow terminal 5 at lunchtime whereupon that nice lady decorator told me she was going to treat me to a no expenses spared slap up lunch at the caviar and seafood bar in recognition of my white van heroics.  No expense spared that is until I asked for a third glass of Sancerre.

As we boarded the plane we bumped into Valbonne resident Captain Custard as we have come to know my occasional tennis foe, BA captain John Coward, who was famously in the pilot’s seat when that Boeing 777 pancaked at Heathrow a few years back. He said he was on his way home, but I must admit I breathed a sigh of relief when our plane actually reached the runway at Nice Airport.

Chris France