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A proper breakfast or a dogs dinner?

August 16, 2012

We set off yesterday morning in mild temperatures but under glowering skies to walk the dogs at Rustington, with the hangover nurtured nicely, and by the time we reached the sea it was blowing a hooley and lashing with rain. “Whats wrong with you?” said that nice lady decorator as, after 30 seconds in the freezing wind tunnel of rain-lashed horror, I was back in the car. I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt, she was wearing oil skins and a caribou hide jacket. Fine for her, not for me. A good hearty English breakfast was required to restore order as my picture today shows.

A cholestral concentration

Preparations must be made for my trip to Lords tomorrow. I have been appointed wine monitor for the day. My instructions are to have available 6 bottles of white wine chilled and a couple of bottles of a decent red ready for lunch on the lawn today. As there are 5 of us meeting there, we will obviously have to supplement these meagre portions with beers or, more likely, visits to the Pimms and Champagne tents. I think there will be some cricket to watch as well, weather permitting. My problem is not the wine but the chilling. It will be fine if the weather is like yesterday morning, leaving them outside should get them nicely chilled. I may have to keep the red wine close to my body all day in order to achieve anything like room temperature.

I mentioned my chilling problem to the sprogs, but it appears that the younger generation attach a different meaning to the word. There was nothing else for it, I would have to go shopping for some wine chilling sleeves. I tried to sneak out on my own because, as all men know but few will talk openly about, the retail experience when undertaken alone and by a man is immensely more time efficient than when undertaken with a woman present. However, the shopping alarms went off in her brain, so my quick dash to Chichester became a shopping marathon, topped by a visit to a garden centre resulting in most of the town being deforested and moved to Arundel. Kew garden now has fewer plants than us.

The good news, apart from the usual good news that surrounds opening an account with foreign exchange special its Currencies Direct, is I have found a method of chilling the white wine that should work. The bad news is that I will have to get up almost before I go to bed in order to get a train that will get me to London in time for the toss up. England must win to keep their status as the No 1 Test playing nation, and whilst I dream of success, my head tells me a draw will be the best we can achieve.

A night out in London beckons after dinner at the Sea Shell in Lisson Grove, one of the most famous fish n chip shops in the world. I think I will order a steak and see what happens. We shall be joined at the cricket and for dinner by Nigel “Medina Palms” Rowley whom I shall attempt to keep fully clothed throughout. This has often been a problem in the past, most notably at my house in Valbonne some 3 years ago when he and a certain high profile dentist, whom I really cannot name, having tested the local rose wine to undressing point were at one stage naked aboard a wind surfer in my swimming pool. A dining room chair was also involved but that is all I can say without risking writs for libel. My defence, that my 15 year old daughter has photographic evidence, should be enough to come to a reasonable settlement.

Chris France

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