Waiter, there is no wine in my glass

There are phrases which you hear in the south of France that you may never hear in England.  The phrase that was used at lunch yesterday by the as beautiful as she is scary Lisa Thornton Allan at the Cafe Des Arcades in Valbonne Square was: “it’s too hot”. Indeed it was a little hot, 29 degrees is a bit too hot, so for the first time I am looking forward to getting back to England in mid July for a bit of a cool down. I think I may be delirious.

The after effects of the big weekend were still lurking so it was a quiet lunch before, in the evening, I was dispatched the airport to collect locust 1, aka sprog 1, who was flying in for a couple of weeks in order to drink all my wine and beers and eat all my food. Sprog 2 arrived last night so the locust denudation has already commenced. Where did they learn to drink like that? I blame their mother.

So after a nice but rather expensive lunch, I felt it was a good move to embrace a siesta before heading to the airport to pick up the principle locust. Dragging the girls from the square proved a little difficult but eventually it was achieved, but not much before 5pm.

Whilst we were enjoying a post prandial afternoon cap in the web, another story emerged from Slash and Burn Thornton Allan whilst aboard the boat on the way (or the way back, he cannot be certain) from St Tropez at the weekend. At some stage on the trip he lost a tooth, a titanium tooth implant no less, a shoe, probably a Gucci, and some Armani sunglasses. To lose one item might be considered unlucky, two items raises some doubts but to lose three items, including a tooth? What was he doing? Actually I know what he was doing but simply cannot discuss it.

When eventually his losses became apparent the next day, or perhaps the day afterwards he was mortified. Normally he makes a profit on everything including and especially his foreign exchange transactions as he has sensibly opened an account with Currencies Direct, but these were losses that were hard to bear. He said that the repair bill for the tooth alone could run into thousands, but unexpected help was at hand, or rather at nose. It seems that fate was smiling upon him however because at some stage a little later in the afternoon he sneezed and then found his tooth. It almost took my eye out as it went past me at 200 miles an hour and tried to embed itself in my oak tree. We decided that a proper description of this miracle should be hitherto described as a corker snorker.

Perhaps part of the blame for this unfortunate chain of events might be illustrated by this enhanced picture taken by him at Tahiti Beach in St Tropez on Sunday. I do like a waiter who is prepared to go just that little bit further to ensure that his clients don’t get too thirsty. Taking away the empties before the table gets too full is so important, don’t you think?

But those are all empty?

After his return, during the evening I was alerted by sprog 1 to an expression I had not previously heard. He was referring to a friend who had a predilection for the larger lady, but I am not sure the expression “a chubby chaser” is politically correct?

Surely, the week has to quieten down at some stage? I hear you ask, and perhaps this is the day. House guests the Thornton Alllans have some business to do this morning and so mercifully at this stage I do not think I am required to lunch. However as tonight is their last night before returning to the rather damp benefits that Muswell Hill have to offer, I am by no means out of the woods yet.

Chris France