Fired up for cooking

So the ongoing birthday of that nice lady decorator, a continuing and moving feast in more ways than one moved towards its inevitable conclusion. Perhaps aptly for a Sunday the final feast, the last supper, which took the form of lunch at The Duke Of Wellington at East Keswick was the focus point for a gathering of many of the good people of Yorkshire. That they are for the most part uneducated and rusticly charming people is undeniable and any kind of sophistication eludes them. Salt of the earth that they are, and denied electricity for the most part one cannot expect much in terms of being worldly wise but at the same time one cannot help but warm to their warm home spun charm. Many of them have not ventured more than 10 miles from their place of birth throughout their entire lives, and most are proud of this fact. “If it doesn’t come from Yorkshire its not worth bothering with”.

Take fellow diner and Yorkshireman Dave Wurr for example. Few women would and although I understand no more than one in three of his guttural utterances he is one of my favourite people from whom I like to remove money on the golf course.  He is as old as Methusalah and not as good looking but what sets him apart from many of these country souls is that he has traveled abroad, albeit only to Spain. Clearly it must have been a long time ago because he revealed that once he took a twin tub washing machine to Majorca as hand luggage. I can just not imagine the reaction at the Easyjet check in were he to attempt such a thing today.

Our hosts, John and Rachael “square the circle” Surtees have done their best to keep a steady stream of alcohol and food coming at us the whole weekend and even organising a tennis match for me to win convincingly yesterday morning. John has now retired from working on The Chuckle Brothers latest output ans is now organising his team for the Golden Oldies Cricket Festival in Adelaide in November.  Having been selected to play I have had no choice but to accept, particularly as this will mean at least three weeks away from the dreadful dark and wet experience that will be my lot in England later this year. Winter is not my favourite time. When I asked how many others had been selected, answer came there none. Yes, no others except the self appointed team captain have achieved the three hurdles required to be eligible; being over 40, have time for a three week holiday and being stupid enough to want to play cricket at an advanced age.

So today we leave the chilly winds and rain that epitomises Yorkshire, and from where I took today’s picture in a pub over the weekend to return to the warm embrace of France. One good thing is that our return will I hope finally mark the end if the birthday commiserations (they are no longer celebrations after a certain number) and I shall be able to get back to working on finding those many lost souls out there who are still using their banks to move money abroad instead of opening an account with Currencies Direct.

Fire being readied for cooking

I am hearing disturbing reports that thunderstorms have been in evidence in Valbonne but that must clearly be an ugly rumour being spread by some jealous Yorkshire locals so I fully expect to be basking in the sunshine on a beach in the Cote d’Azur this afternoon.

Chris France