Modern art fiasco

Having conceded the first set 6 – 1 in poor conditions on tennis court number 11 at the Vignale yesterday morning, where the position of the sun is a hindrance to quality play, Mr Clipbeard was chipper, claiming “the blog was writing itself”. This is a comment that I often make when something funny and reportable in this column is or has just occurred.

On one level I was pleased to hear this comment as, once again, the subject of my daily writings was the topic of discussion, and, as you all know by now I love it when it’s all about me. The Wingco, who has held a consistently negative view of this daily missive, at once attempted without much success to change the subject.  As it turns out, Mr Clipbeard was correct as, two sets later, having changed courts, the Moustachioed Old Gits were triumphantly downing a victorious beer having trounced our opponents by two sets to one and the blog had indeed begun to write itself.

No, no and no

Several beers were consumed during the post-mortem, or indeed the victory roll depending on whether one was a loser or a winner. After tennis, I adjourned to discuss this momentous victory with that nice lady decorator and I am afraid that I have to report that she was less than impressed with my fulsome description of this famous triumph. I can still hear the words “who gives a fu*k?”. Women will never fully understand tennis, or winning.

Dotted about Valbonne at the moment are a series of hideous sculptures of the kind beloved by the French and the kind of idiots who see merit in the entries for The Turner Prize. Modern art is of course a complete con, fooling all of its followers all of the time. The only reason I am glad to see such a beautiful village festooned with so much garbage is that it gives me something to write about and photograph, as I have here.

I was going to describe this piece as a” load of bollocks” but as you can see, the bollocks are in the wrong place, above the penis. This is a measure of the lack of talent of the artist, getting a simple detail like that wrong. I have been told I am a Philistine, but I have no idea why the lack of appreciation for modern art might signal me as  a man who would collect stamps.

Anyway, after another hot day, we sat down to dinner outside with Sprog 1 and Sprog 2, who hitherto had no idea that this is to how they are referred in this column. They were very pleased, not. With it being so hot, the best time of day now is after the sun has gone down. Note to self; sometimes cool wet weather can be welcome. I shall keep this note with me when I am “enjoying” same in England.

Actually the Arundel Festival look like fun. Loads of street entertainers, loads of music, Shakespeare, and even a “bath tub challenge” where entrants build a craft to negotiate a mile long stretch of the River Arun. It seems that locals can never have enough of getting wet. Being a confirmed and determined non swimmer I shall be restricting myself to reporting on events rather than taking part.

You may have spotted that I have not yet mentioned today the benefits of opening an account with Currencies Direct, a way of saving up to 3 per cent on your foreign currency transfers. I make no excuses for this glaring omission, I simply forgot until I read this through, hoping that I had completed the customary 600 words, my daily target. 608 now, no 610…….

Chris France