Pool resources

The whole world is changing. I am having to move back to the UK for much of the rest of this year, banks can no longer be trusted, and neither can Mr Clipbeard aka Mr Clipboard, well-known as the pedantic time keeping ogre who has, wait for it, both changed the timing of tennis at the Vignale today AND then cancelled. Is nothing sacred? It was something of a surprise then, that he actually turned up at the Cafe Des Arcades in a packed Valbonne Square last evening having booked a table. I took up this point with him, that the two words with which I most associate him are “anally” and “punctual”. It is fair to say that he was not best pleased by this observation.

A tirade aimed at non public schoolboys (ie me) followed but I forgave him as he is currently living in a household of nine where he is the only male (although perhaps a chromosome test might be relevant just to be sure).

The lovely Mrs Clipbeard was there and was excited about an invitation she had received, and extended to those present, to what seems to me to be an opportunity to watch paint dry. That nice lady decorator gets all excited by anything to do with paints, decorating and especially a paint making company called Farrow and Ball. Imagine her delight then to be invited to champagne reception at Raymond Blanc’s  Le Manoir aux Quat’ Saisons in September to hear a talk about paint. She is already spitting feathers as it seems that oil based paints are being phased out and she needs an explanation of exactly what is being done to ensure that she can continue her decorating duties without recourse to water based paints.

I was not aware that they are being phased out, and, like all right thinking people, was not remotely interested, however I know she is very concerned and will have something to say to these people. Elephants Breath (the ridiculous name of one of their colours) will be as nothing compared with the vitriol that they will be receiving if no alternative is forthcoming.

It is now hot here, so hot that even I, a confirmed non swimmer,  have had to seek solace in our swimming pool for extended periods in order to cool down so that I am able to concentrate on the best ways of securing new customers for Currencies Direct. What is sometimes a little disconcerting whilst so engaged is to hear a loud splash and then find a spaniel swimming by with a tennis ball in his mouth as my picture today shows.

Dog with tennis ball, no this is not Wimbledon

This is Max, the fine old family (stone deaf) pet loved by all and he is welcome to use the pool at any time. There is however another dog who also uses my pool but he uses it without my permission. I have explained to Banjo, the calamitous canine who survives only due to the patronage of that nice lady decorator, in words of one syllable that he must not go on as he is not welcome but he feigns deafness and takes no notice.

And so today there is now a huge gap in my diary this morning due to the aforementioned unreliability of Mr Clipbeard. That nice lady decorator is out for the day, decorating, there is no tennis, no lunch, and I have to start packing for England. My life is coming to an end, just a little over two weeks to go.

Before I go though, there is a packed schedule of events starting tomorrow with that tennis.  Then we are aboard L’Exocet this coming Saturday for the Cannes fireworks, and thereafter may take Bluebell the camper van down to Callian, near Lac St Cassien for a champagne and chukkas polo event on Sunday for some horseplay.

Chris France