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Sun sets on gourmet food

July 13, 2012

One of the lovely aspects of living in France is the gourmet food available from any number of local restaurants, and the quality of the diet in general, with the emphasis on the lovely fresh local fruit and vegetables. So with the nice lady decorator busy in the kitchen after returning from London, and with wonderful aromas reaching me in the web last night where I was nursing the first beer of the day, from where I took this picture,  I was understandably salivating over whatever it was she was creating. She has been away over 30 hours and as I hardly even know where the kitchen is, let alone any of that machinery that does the cooking, I was hungry. So what was the treat……? A tray of scotch eggs and some small pork chipolatas.

It seems that as we will be away for an extended period we must “eat the freezer”. Apparently, as the freezer, well one of them, needs to be empty by the 25th July, our proposed leaving date, in readiness for when the summer guardian arrives, we have either to eat or trash its contents, so it looks like I am in for some gastronomic treats in the coming weeks.

For instance, I am not sure how I will react, with the temperatures hovering around 30 degrees during the day, to an unfrozen Christmas Pudding, which I happen to know is currently languishing in there. And who bought and frozen mince pies? At least it will be a period of rehabilitation with English food.

Sunset for healthy eating.

Yesterday was too hot to do much and it looks like being much the same today, so what a sensible idea it is to play tennis today at 11am. A slight change on personnel today in that we have found someone who has not played with Mr Clipbeard for some time so may have forgotten what it is like. John Coward is a British Airways pilot who lives locally and is famous for being the co pilot of the Boeing 777 that crash landed at Heathrow a few years ago, just getting over the perimeter fence when the engines cut out. I do hope he has enough stamina to make it through the match without cutting out early. The usual jokes will undoubtedly reappear, for instance, should he hit the ball in the bet, cry of “up a bit” will be irresistible to some, such as myself. The lob may attach “what goes up must come down” and the like. I think you get the picture.

There is just a chance that we will pop into the Auberge St Donat for lunch thereafter as another tennis quartet involving Milsted (Blind Lemon), Harris (Dancing), Bay (Dock Of The) and Mundell (Master Mariner) play at a similar time, although the quality may be somewhat lacking, their enthusiasm is touching, although their commitment is open to question as they book just an hour whilst we shall have two hours. What is that expression about Englishmen and the mid day sun?

It appears that many of the above together with respective spouses will be aboard L’Ecocet, the Master Mariner’s boat for the Bastille Day fireworks in Cannes, and fireworks of a different sort may also be expected as The Wingco is reportedly bring his guitar and amplifier.

On a slightly different note Roly Bufton called to ask what was the form for taking a boat into the Bay of Cannes as he would like to take his, and there will be hundreds of other boats doing the same. He had previously sought advice from the naked former politician who advised him to anchor, then stay anchored for sometime until all the drunken boat parties had left before returning to port. I do hope he was not referring to us.

Chris France

2 Comments leave one →
  1. July 21, 2012 11:43 pm

    Typical UK comments – envy, envy envy. Tim did well for himself and played the best he could. Most of these envious people wouldn’t even know one end of a tennis racket from another. This is why I left this nasty country. Thanks to the Socialists who promoted the politics in envy, Britain is a failing nation. No balls, no ambition just take take take from the diminishing few who pay for a third rate government, third rate police force and a chattering PC class that laugh as a great ship of state slowly sinks into oblivion.


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