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Valbonne pig roast shock (for me)

June 22, 2012

The annual French mid summers day festival “Fete de la Musique” was embraced by Valbonne for the first time last night, and although the square was buzzing, and that nice lady decorator had to pull rank to ensure we got a table at the Cafe Des Arcades, it did not have the edge of the music events staged in previous years in Mouans Sartoux.

I was however lucky enough to espy Dancing Greg Harris from Cote d’Azur Villa Rentals and able to ask him in front of a crowd of thirsty ex pats how he got on at tennis the night before (when he lost horribly to the MOGS), but it seems amnesia has set in. Poor chap, I believe he is only in his early 70’s, well at least that’s what it looks like now that hair colouring seems to be part of his life, but I did not mention it in public, I have too much heart. Better that a small personal quirk such as this emanating from a bottle is revealed quietly in the best read blog in Valbonne. It gives people the chance to have a private chortle about him before they next see him. Laughing with someone is so much better than laughing at them don’t you think?, and so much easier when one is forarmed with that knowledge rather than suddenly realising that his hair has changed colour when the chap is in front of you. I am so thoughtful and generous of spirit.

The light was not good in the square and I only remembered I wanted a picture after the band had finished (pity they started) so this is not one of my best.

Valbonne Square at night, honest

Work however is always at hand and one never knows when one will be required to spring into commercial action. And so it was last night when I secured another client for Currencies Direct, thus making the whole expense tax allowable. That is my position and my accountant will know that no negotiation is possible. It will be disallowed.

A big party is taking shape at the weekend. Slash and Burn Thornton Allan and child bride, the steely eyed ice cool Lisa are having their leaving party in our garden on Saturday. This is a rather curious state of affairs as they left France for London about a month ago. What a good idea then, to sell your house, get the money and then requisition one of your friends houses to throw the leaving party in the full knowledge that your own house will remain unscathed. Seemingly it allows one to attempt facets of culinary entertainment that one would never consider in one’s own garden. A pig roast is apparently booked for Saturday.

The only people who seemed to know nothing about this until today were myself, and maybe the pig, but even he (or she, lets not be sexist about this) may have had more idea than I. They arrive from Muswell Hill this morning and will apparently take in the supermarket and the wine merchants before descending upon us.

A pig roast? In Provence? It is probably a fine decision if one lives in the frozen north of Britain, anywhere say north of a line between Bristol and The Wash, where people probably huddle around the burning pig fat in order to keep warm but Valbonne? It’s in the 80’s Fahrenheit now. At the time of writing I have no idea where thus giant piece of bacon will be prepared. I am not even certain I have been invited.

Thus today will be overwhelmed by instructions from that nice lady porky party organiser for me to run hither and thither in preparation. It’s a pigs life.

Chris France

One Comment leave one →
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