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The three amigos?

October 9, 2012

The wheels of commerce are gradually turning again. Being in London overnight I took the opportunity to ensure my empire is running smoothly, which took nearly all morning, well, from 11 until 12 and then of course it was time for lunch. I am now learning how to use twitter; what a curious waste of time it is, all this social networking, time spent being social by being unsociable in front of a screen. However it seems it is a necessary evil in the current world of business and that many potential clients of Currencies Direct could be unearthed in this manner, thus saving them from being ripped off by their banks. I must be getting old.

Not as old as my old pal and filmster (he would say film star) John Otway who is firmly into his 7th decade whereas I am a mere stripling by comparison. No bus pass for me for at least 15 months. However, it is fair to say in response that I have never been famous enough to find people on the street wearing masks of my face. I show a picture today of exactly how famous John Otway has become. He even got onto Channel 4 news on Sunday night.

Otway the movie


Back then to Arundel to regather before the trek up north in mid-week. I need to pack a shovel, extra provisions, fuel, a mini generator and pepper spray to ward off wild animals which means most of the population. My destination is Chester which was deemed sufficiently far away from civilisation to give me time to finish my book. No distractions you see.

I know it is extreme but The Valbonne Monologues will not write themselves. They must be finished by the end of this month to make the proposed launch on 17th December back in Valbonne.  Going somewhere wild and desolate, where there will be no entertainment and probably even no TV to distract me is a great idea, but there is one small problem in that I believe there is a pub somewhere in Chester and I have reason to suspect it sells real ale. I do hope that I do not find it, that book is a vital element for many a Valbonnaise  Christmas present list and I would hate to disappoint them. My fingers are crossed that I shall be able to announce its completion imminently unless I find that pub and it selling the second best beer in the world, Timothy Taylor Landlord, and it is open.

Before that I have one more day left in civilisation, of which I intend to make the most.  At least I had intended; a nice lunch stretching into the afternoon, a short siesta, a couple of pints, a nice dinner with some St Emilion Grand Cru, a fine cigar and then a cognac to send one off to bed. However that nice lady decorator has a schedule in mind that is far less alluring. A tough cycle ride in the scudding rain, a paperwork mountain, a trip to DIY store Do It All (I wish they could do it all for me), a light green leaf salad for lunch, various menial tasks for the afternoon followed by quiche for supper and a day off the booze.

She contends that my god like figure is more like the shape of Buddha nowadays and that something must be done. I contend that I am well-built and heavily muscled, especially around the stomach area, but I can feel I am not standing on the moral high ground, more rolling about on it. I am also hurt when the name Billy Bunter is used, seemingly with me in mind and not in an affectionate way.

Chris France

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