Truffles or mushrooms?

Having decided to take Good Friday off from my missionary work with Currencies Direct, a motley straggle of ex pats decided on lunch in the unforecast sunshine, which was taken in Valbonne Square rather than indoors at the lovely Pierres Rouges, with John Hurts former cleaner. The lovely Leslie Bufton and long-suffering Roly who have just taken delivery of their new yacht, a splendid looking Fleming, have come a long way from her humble beginnings and are off to Falmouth this week for sea trials.

They have chosen their captain, he is Italian. This piece of information of course led to some merriment at their expense due to a certain Italian captains unfortunate experiences recently. I am not certain of their boat’s name but “Costa Packet” was suggested along with “A Bit On The Side” and one or two more tasteless suggestions, “Dead Wood” being one that I can include in this column, renowned for its taste, poise and treatment of gossip. I suppose that the captain of the Costa Concordia (whose name Schalatti is the Italian word for “roller skate”) will shortly be facing his own sea trial.

The Italian theme continued through lunch with Pizza Truffino on the menu (I assume this means a pizza with truffle oil?) which was very pleasant but I cannot see what all the fuss is about and with lunch over, adjournment to the pav became the order of the day, a good decision as the promised thunderstorms began to circle, and by that I also mean the beautiful university educated blonde Lisa Thornton Allan became more than slightly unsettled claiming at one stage “I would be so much more intimidating if I wasn’t so stupid” this of course is utterly incorrect, she is even more intimidating when she is being stupid because she has the ability to project her opinions in such a way they have the ring of certainty. For instance, I now firmly believe that passenger airliners can and do travel at 2000 miles per hour, Whitstable is on the south coast of Kent and a camera on a smart phone has 256 pixies.

When walking in the Valmasque yesterday morning, I was struck by this very large and possibly magic mushroom apparently petrified in stone. Of course if you cannot see it then you probably need some magic mushrooms in interfere with your spatial awareness.

As Rolf Harris might say, Can you see what it is yet?

After this stiff walk, more exercise to ensure a proper appetite in the form of tennis with the Wingco. He was not convinced that I won but a scoreline of 4-6, 6-2 tells its own story. Nominally it was one set each but on the count back, a method I employ when it suits me, the score was 10-8 to me, a clear victory, lovingly and truthfully reported in this missive. He will not read it of course (“Ghastly” his considered opinion) but many of his friends do and many will alert him to my interpretation.

Today I am due to play golf with the Landlubbers at the magnificent St Donat but as I write this at 6am the promised storms are lashing rain on my windows so my computer has stopped working I think golf may be cancelled.

I firmly believe that other social occasions for the Easter weekend were organised and agreed yesterday but I admit to a slight over consumption of a very good 2008 St Emilion Grand Cru priced at a very reasonable 7.99 euro (I can hear Peter Lynn saying it’s “not old enough to be out on its own”) and subsequent memory loss. Doubtless all will be clear when I sober up.

Chris France