A truffle expensive?

Just when it was getting late and apart from the inevitable mention of Currencies Direct I was beginning to get concerned as I had nothing planned for today’s column, a juicy story reached my ears although I simply cannot reveal the name of the family involved. It seems that some years ago the father was involved in some kind of corporate promotion which involved or was using some James Bond images. An Aston Martin was required for a few days and a number plate with the numbers 007 was produced. One day he used the Aston to collect his children, all under 10 at the time from school. Weeks later the children sat their father down and said “it doesn’t matter but we know what you do, you are a spy”. He asked what on earth had given them that idea. It seems that discovery in a bedroom draw of a pair of handcuffs was sufficient for them to come that inevitable conclusion.

Sunday was a rare quiet family day. Any suggestion that I stayed at home alert all day to keep an eye on and protect the integrity of the drinks fridge from the kleptomaniac tendencies of sprogs 1 and 2 and their thirsty friends is as scurrilous as it is true. I called it a family day with both sprogs enjoying some much-needed sunshine after having been marooned in dreary old England for most of the winter and it was late in the evening before we saw anyone, and if you read the opening story you will know that I cannot reveal who it was who dropped in.

Today is a bank holiday but I have a sneaking suspicion that a rest seems to be the last thing on my agenda, which of course I have yet to see. Yesterday I caught that nice lady decorator checking the levels of sand and cement in our possession, then peering into the cement mixer. Later she had a tape measure and was pacing out the terraced area around the web. I know a new large structure to cover our outside eating has been ordered and will be delivered tomorrow and I suspect the terrace needs a small extension.

Regular readers will know that I will try the old “war wound” defence followed by the bad back syndrome but will know, as do I, that both strategies are doomed to fail. Even the excuse that mechanical devices should not be used on a bank holiday will, I feel, be dismissed on the grounds that both our neighbours are away, thus a morning of construction hell seems to be my destiny.

My picture today is another captured by Slash and Burn Thornton Allan from The Big Picture who has found some black truffles for sale in our green grocers village shop. I may pop down there today and pick up a kilo.

Truffles in Valbonne

Shortly after the Easter break I shall commence the planning for my second book which I hope to have ready for the Christmas market.  Marina Kulik who runs painting courses just outside Valbonne has suggested in the past that I should model for her classes, even suggesting that I would make a good nude, although that all went quiet. However she has recently suggested that perhaps a painting of my good self might make a better cover than last time (and heavens knows very little could be worse than the cover of my first book “Summer In The Cote d’Azur” still available in paperback and for Kindle) so perhaps I should model with the best picture being considered for the cover. I have to tell you all now, I am considering this as an option. Order early for Christmas.

Chris France