Old gits rule

As I write I am in a very curious establishment called, rather  aptly “Oddfellows” in Chester, a lonely damp, wind swept outpost.  My initial concern, that it might be a secret meeting place, or cover for a number of public schoolboy odd fellows who are my friends was not laid to rest when I heard that the trustees of the Grovesnor House were dining there last evening. They had all brought their coaches and four, the southern equivalent of a Ferrari, to dinner and were expecting “snap” of the highest order. From the kitchens I believe I could sense the unmistakable aroma of boiled whippet and tripe, so clearly it was to be a feast.

Yes, I have arrived up north in readiness for my 5 days, or however long it takes, to finish The Valbonne Monologues. Some might say that is was finished before it was started but that is not my view. As a successful author selling a telling 204 copies of my first book “Summer In The Cote d’Azur” I am certain that there are hundreds, maybe scores, maybe even dozens of people waiting for its publication so I must be focussed. the reason for choosing a northern out post? There should be no distractions, no pleasures of the flesh lurking at every turn, no possibility of finding Currencies Direct clients and no little chores to do around the house. A particular talent of that nice lady decorator is her ability to interrupt a chain of thought by getting me to bring logs in or whatever.

Whilst embarked on a reconnaissance mission last evening, I came across what I believe passes for a designer outlet up north. When one conjures up the sense of style and class exuded by the creations of Louis Vuitton, or Chanel for instance, one immediately has a wonderful image in mind. The northern response is shown in my picture today.

Northern soul

Old Guys Rule somehow captures beautifully the essence of the wilderness north of Coventry should perhaps have named themselves Old Gits Rule, but anyway it got me thinking up ideas for other names for northern designers. What about Peachy Pigeon? Or Tripe Strides? Or even  Slagheap Style?. At least they use the word Rule, a departure for this apparently lawless province, or perhaps alluding to hope for a sheriff or equivalent to keep the peace?

Ok, that enough north bashing for now. I am bitter because on my Facebook page yesterday someone mentioned that the temperature in Cannes today will be 25 degrees whereas the temperatures in England are in single figures. I knew it was going to be bad having to leave Valbonne and winter in the old country but I had managed to put it out of my mind until I saw that.

A brief look back at my favourite bit of my music career now as co founder of Music Of Life, the UK “Rap Label Of The Year” in NME in 1988 and 1989. It seems that there is a resurgence of interest in that period, and it is true that we opened the doors to may of the rap artists today, so I am delighted that we have established a youtube channel to which we are uploading videos daily. The most surreal was where we managed somehow to get a real Jamaican rude boy ragamuffin toaster called Daddy Freddy on to Blue Peter. I was there but never did get my Blue Peter badge.

Last night to The Tap Room to sample some beers that I have never heard of before, and then to a nice little Thai restaurant to eat some food which I have never seen before, but all is well, I am awake without any ill effects so let the writing commence.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News