Painting vote shocker

It does not take much for the fertile seeds of my over inflated ego to come to flower. The inspired decision to exhibit all the entries in the Currencies Direct sponsored “Paint The Cover of Chris France’s New Book” which you can see by clicking here did everything and more than I could hope for. Over 300 people so far have visited the site to decide which work had best captured the spirit of, well, me. How could I not enjoy every second? Correct, I did and continue to enjoy every second.

Opinion is split as to whether I choose correctly, but frankly I love being the bone of contention. Many people believe that the painting by the amiable Dutch man, Wim Teunissen , that is my featured picture today, was the best. He did his very best to “lobby” me before the result was announced by giving me three fine Cohiba cigars having given up smoking, and I respect that. I am always in favour of bribery. He received many votes, mostly it must be said from people with suspiciously Dutch names. Surely that will be no manipulation of the vote? Perhaps we need some international observers to ensure everything is free and fair? Perhaps I should take his suggestion that a chap from Holland should be put in charge?

My image at the Wim of the painter

Yesterday’s late afternoon solitude was disturbed by a rather vulgar two door convertible Mercedes, covered in bird shit, wheel spinning up the drive. It was Master Mariner Mundell who was in need of water. You would think he had enough water around him, living mostly on his boat, but that was not the point, he wanted mine. It seems that washing ones car in sea water when the sea gulls have paid their respects it is not recommended and the port authorities take a dim view of car washing in situ. Now you may wonder why I am telling you this, and you make take the view that this unannounced visit may be used as an excuse to break my iron will to have a full day without a drink, and you would be right. Having effectively irrigated all 2000+ square meters of my garden with his unsupervised use of my hose pipe, he demanded beer before setting sail. As a consummate host I complied, and a man cannot drink alone, so, yes, that nice lady decorator and I back slid.

The deed is done, the house in Arundel is bought and we take possession on 27th July. At almost the same moment, the Reverend Jeff was telling me that the Daily Mail or some other preposterous down market rag of a newspaper expects the current wet weather in England to last until Christmas at least. He was not joking. If I could get hold of that vertically challenged ex President Sarkozy, the man responsible for my having to leave France, I would find another use for that hose pipe. He would be getting as wet as I will be for the foreseeable future.

So in the meantime, like a condemned man, I must make the most of my last few weeks in France for some time. Tennis will take place tonight at the newly sold Vignale Tennis Club. The Vignale is an atmospheric but utterly run down tennis club that I have long thought could make an excellent country club, once the ancient matriarchal owner (she was 85!) let go of the reins, and now it has happened and it seems some Balitrand money will be invested, perhaps this will come to fruition. It will be too late to save our poor opponents though, they will receive the ritual thrashing they so richly deserve this evening, after which its off to see more art in the shape of the work by Kevin Kerslake at Galerie Valbonne.

Chris France