Tonelling out

I learned yesterday what is my favourite opening line for an entertainer. “I came on the bus, but managed to disguise it as an asthma attack.”

This expression “came” to light a few days ago, but I had forgotten until reminded about it yesterday aboard Master Mariner Mundell’s pretty sailing yacht L’Exocet. With some untypical Cote d’Azur weather involving something called rain hovering about during the morning, albeit light and intermittent, a decision was made to abandon motoring 3 hours down the coast to lunch at St Tropez and instead head over to Juan Les Pins. However on the way I remembered that La Tonnelle (pictured today), on the smaller of Les Iles Des Lerins, the islands a few miles of the coast of Cannes had a tender service. This of course is not a touching church event but where the restaurant will send a tender to transport guests from boats to shore for lunch.

La Tonelle viewed from the sea

The Master had not been there so we headed for it whilst applying to ourselves appropriate or perhaps in some cases inappropriate supplies of rose, beers and even in one case, pastis. Dangerous Jackie Lawless was aboard and was deemed to be “Roger the cabin boy”, a character from a very old kids TV series called Captain Pugwash, for the day. Being somewhat younger than many fellow travellers she had volunteered for this task without, I think, taking on board as it were, the underlying sexual interpretation that could be applied to her title. Innocently she thought it just involved serving drinks up from the galley.

After lunch we were sailing in more ways than one. The Master deemed that there was sufficient wind to merit the raising of the sails and at a respectable 7 knots we tacked our way back to the berth in Port De La Rague in much the manner would a drunk weaving his way home after a skin full might do on dry land.

Returning in early evening, we raised ourselves after a late siesta to go into Valbonne Square for yet more food and drink. The occasion was the last night for our house guests, that nice lady decorators brother Hugh and his lovely wife Stephanie before they return to the UK today. Just when I thought that a long day was coming to a sedate and restful end, we had even ordered the bill, we were descended upon my man mountain Peachy Butterfield, fresh from successfully installing his first clients of Peachy Properties into their new house in Mougins. He was pleased with himself for this first success although there is no doubt that the hard graft had been undertaken by long suffering and gorgeous wife Suzanne. In no way did this triumph assuage his determination to party and so, after a number more carafes of the house red, he decided that we had not yet had a proper “pav night” meaning more drinks in the thai style pavillion that overlooks our swimming pool.

My reluctance to continue imbibing  after such a long day was swept away by the “Le Peche Enorme” as he told me we needed to discuss the finer points of his appointment as our “guardien” for my house whilst we are in exile in Arundel. I hesitate to think this morning about what I may have agreed last night. Doubtless the full scale of this horror will unfold today.

One thing I hope I mentioned would be the benefit to Peachy’s Properties of becoming affiliates for Currencies Direct, thus enabling them to alert their clients to the savings that can be made. This will then enable me to submit the not inconsiderable bill for dinner to my accountant as a legitimate business expense. I can almost hear him whimpering now.

Chris France