Accidental fork

Back in Valbonne and straight back into that lovely south of France lifestyle that I adore. Lunch, one of the most delicious words in any language was taken chez Roly and the lovely Lesley Bufton at their palatial abode right next door to their other palatial abode. Most people would be happy with just one but hey, it’s a long story which I will not go into here.

A happy throng descended to eat and drink in that typical ex pat Provencal way. The eating part of lunch was completed at about 5pm but I did not get home until after 10pm. Situation normal, although I do not recall the promised Coupe Coronel, perhaps a good thing as that nice lady decorator hit the proverbial wall early, at 8pm, taking a sort power nap in order recharge those formidable batteries.

With the blackberry fully charged and my reading spectacles readily at hand I was able to record the many details of some of the more amusing events discussed over pre-lunch mohitos, gallons of rose and a rather good 2000 château bottled Cru Bourgeois Haut Medoc.

Days like yesterday provide a massive amount of material for this column, far too much to cram into this daily look into the lives of the idle rich, which was born out of a need to educate the community about the value of using Currencies Direct to effect foreign currency transactions.

For example, Slash and Burn Thornton Allan got proceedings off to a fine start by revealing that once, after a trip abroad he was dispatched by his wife, that steely eyed goddess Lisa (of whom more later) to collect the family’s black labrador dog from the kennels. All was well until Berty the dogs behaviour was noticed to have changed. The dog went from room to room sniffing, then upstairs where he would not normally venture and then jumped on to the kids trampoline which was a bouncing departure as Bertie was renowned for avoiding the trampoline area, perhaps because he had apparently once been the unwilling star in the Thornton Allan sprogs reenactment of the famous Barnes Wallis bouncing bomb story.

Doubts about his treatment at the kennels increased until one of the Thornton Allan sprogs noticed a curious and astonishing new addition. Bertie had apparently grown new testicles during his stay at the kennels. It was I think at this stage Slash and Burn realised that he had collected the wrong dog.

Peachy Butterfield, man of mystery or more precisely man mountain of mystery was very keen to ensure that he did not over eat (although to be honest this did nothing to reduce his intake of the local rose). He stated mysteriously that there was to be no TTT. When questioned as to what this stood for he confessed it was Tummy Touching Table. In his own mind his figure resembles that of the figure in my picture today taken in one of the far-flung corners of our hosts garden. But why the garden fork?

a naked forker?

Roly’s boat which is being delivered at the end of the month was the subject of much discussion, as was his decision to employ a gay skipper. Some good ideas were expounded to aid the forthcoming  seafaring experience but Mr Butterfield’s helpful suggestion that their captain be asked to wear a t-shirt emblazoned with “Hello Sailor” was quietly rejected.

Another revealing story was undressed by the piercing blue eyes of Mrs Slash and Burn, the willowy and beautiful Lisa. I have no idea why she admitted to taking to cleaning the family shower room whilst naked save for a toothbrush and some red marigolds, or indeed why she should allow an arch blogger such as myself access to this kind of information but it is an image I wish to hold with me until my demise.

There is so much more that will have to wait for another day.

Chris France