Truffle kerfuffle chuckle

I only want to talk about the second set, as, during the first set the sun and heat seemed to get to the Wingco and he came over all aggressive, trying to hit the cover off the tennis ball. Once I had calmed him, normal “service” was resumed and an honourable draw agreed after two hours in gruelling heat.

It may have been the heat, or more likely that fact that an airport run (for a Currencies Direct client) which precluded him joining Mr and Mrs Clipbeard and that nice lady decorator for lunch at the Vignale that was the problem. After lunch, and a siesta, I awoke and took this picture of some Agapanthus just in bloom by the pool. All is well in my world at the moment but literally the storm clouds are gathering.

Agapanthus in bloom

It is now just 10 days before we leave to go back to the UK, however the news is good, the jet stream which has so plagued the weather over there in the UK for the last three months is on the move northwards, which will no doubt please northern refugee Peachy Butterfield. St Swithins Day was dry, and the old saying suggests that August will be the start of 40 days of dry weather.

Lunch at the much improved Vignale Tennis Club was good and Mr Clipbeard only mentioned this column in disparaging terms three or four times, which is a move forward. As he said recently, although in rather different circumstances, he cannot resist the temptation to have a go; “its like peanut butter in the fridge, if you know it’s there you just can’t leave it alone”.

That gastronomic delight reminded me of a conversation in which I had been involved in the day before with Roly and Poly Bufton at lunch at Auberge de la Source. We were discussing truffles, those pungent pieces of mouldy fungus much loved by those gourmet types, of which Leslie (Poly) is one. Seemingly there is restaurant, I think in Nice, specialising in truffle dishes. Now I don’t mind a bit of rum truffle baba or ice cream from time to time, but I am afraid the evil smelling version leaves me a little cold. It seems these little blighter’s taste only last about 3 weeks, hence the price. When partaking of a truffle at said restaurant last year, she had to send it back because “it had no taste”. Frankly, that would have been a move forward for me, but no matter, in fact come to think of it I have been thrown out of better establishments than that for having no taste, but I digress.

The truffle was sent back and there was some altercation in the kitchen. I suggested that I would be wary of sending anything back anywhere unless it was accompanied by a hesitant attitude and at least a smile, as there are stories about waiters and chefs dealing with difficult customers by abusing their food. It was at this moment that the expression “truffle kerfuffle chuckle” entered my head. It made me smile but that nice lady decorator gave me the look of a less than benevolent waiter.

More tennis this evening as I attempt to play as often as I can before departure. There may be no outdoor tennis for months,if ever,  in England and I am not sure I shall enjoy playing in a hangar. Mr Clipbeard and Nick “trousers down” Davies will be our opponents as yet again, “Dancing” Greg Harris from Cote d’Azur Villa Rentals received another white feather for cowardice. He claims “pressure of work” but his clients arrive and depart on a Saturday so what’s to do all week?

Chris France