Oyster hangover

I would have liked to describe that nice lady decorator as a Treasure but who was it recently who described their wIfe as a treasure, and then went on to ruin it by saying she looked as if she had just been dug up?

Yes, you have guessed it; silly jokes. After days, no weeks of a hectic whirlpool of frantic socialising, the inevitable cold turkey withdrawal symptoms are upon me.  I am in the recovery position as I write this, which means I am slumped on the sofa in the evening with a glass of pineapple juice, wearing a grumpy expression and watching a rerun of the Jonathon Ross Show whilst listening to the wind beat the rain against my windows.

It has been a hard day. Take commuting for instance. My office is so far from my house that I must take at least 7 giant strides to reach it from the back door, plenty of time in which to get wet but more poignantly, 7 strides to get back to the house. However for the return journey I must go past the door from our yard which leads into the pub. I did not notice it yesterday morning as I was focused on the work ahead for Currencies Direct and the world of popular (well, not that popular) music, but on the way back this was purgatory and makes the commute that much more difficult, but I am nothing if not determined. Actually I was very nearly nothing at about 6pm when I began the long trek back and could hear people laughing and drinking next door, but that nice lady decorator is right, we need a few days off.

What she meant was a few days off the booze not a holiday. And so it is coming to pass. And it will pass again tomorrow before lunch on Thursday with Mr Clipboard when the iron rod of discipline will be put away for a couple of hours and the real world as I see it returns.

A full day in the office is not something I have done for some time, perhaps not in this millennium. It reminded me that I tried work once and I didn’t like it. It caused me to spend 40 years of trying not to get a proper job.

So with no social contact other than with that treasured nice lady decorator and with the demon dog Banjo back in the fold and inspecting the bin closely, the highlight of my day was watching and waiting for him to attack the bin in the kitchen at lunchtime whereupon I could administer summary justice. He just knows how to irritate me. He knows that I know he is thinking about it but he is too clever to do it whilst I am keeping an eye on him.

Oyster opening championships

Thus my thoughts wandered back to events at the Galway Bay Oyster Festival last weekend from where I took the picture above of the oyster opening competition.

Today looks like a further dose of administrative hell, logistical nightmare and digital disaster. I am relaunching my rap label Music Of Life into this brave new digital world and despite the appointment of an excellent label manager and website designers to do all the hard work for me, the soft touch of my administrative genius and specialist knowledge has been called into constant use. Anyway it should be mostly delegated by the end of today.

My thoughts today will turn to what to wear for Otway The Movie at the Leicester Square Odeon premiere on Sunday. My cravat, smoking jacket and plus fours may not sit easily with the red carpet and with the paparazzi in attendance, well, a couple of photographers anyway, there to capture events on the day, and with myself featured briefly in the film, I shall need to convey the correct image. If only I had my kilt with me here in England.

Chris France

@Valbonne_News