Grey area?

So to lunch with Mild, formerly Wild Willy Barrett at the Old Crown in Chiddingfold. For some reason of higher mathematics that I have never quite grasped it seems it was my treat.  That he arrived before I and then charged everything to the tab, booked in my name, was an elementary mistake, and one which I shall regret until, and after, the credit card bill is received.

Despite my paying it was great to see the old chap again and as beers and wine flowed more schemes, each less feasible than the last were discussed in to further his music career, one that has veered sharply from the mainstream since his success with John Otway in the late 1970’s and as I recall some were adopted. Once I had returned to my desk I sent details of his website over to my web designer to have a look at and the prognosis was not good. Wild had described his web presence as “One Page Willy” and he was nor far off the mark. At the parting moment I remembered to tell him that he needed to open an account with Currencies Direct and await the completed forms with bated breath.

Back at home in evening after watching Downton Abbey, a Sunday night addiction with which I seem to be afflicted along with half the population of England, I began to consider the range of unlikely ideas discussed in the hubris of a nice lunch and, one by one, find problems with each. No matter, I shall press on and see what works. What a strange thing, to be working once again with two chaps, Otway and Barrett, with whom I first worked over 40 years ago.

My picture today was taken in Chester last week and I was told it was of a wild boar. Clearly the local population have never before seen an elephant, and why should they? They are warm and lovely people, but like a good wine they seldom travel.

Grey elephant?

Talking of things that should not have travelled, Peachy Butterfield sends glad tidings from Valbonne. Apparently it is still sunny and warm and Terrance the Tractor has at last been fixed by Phil The Mechanic from whom I do not expect a bill in return for this link. Poorer news was received for Tony “I invented the internet” Coombs who is looking after Bluebell The Camper whilst we are in tax enforced exile in England. It seems that the phrase once coined by old rocker Neil Young “Rust Never Sleeps” should be applied to Bluebell and surgery will be required. Perhaps I should contact Mac The Knife my plastic surgeon friend from up north? Or better still his beautiful assistant Kelly? for no more reason than I can.

Following the theme I touched on yesterday, it seems that the nice lady decorator has stolen a slogan from Lemmy from Motorhead; “No sleep ’til Hammersmith” and adapted it to her own uses. “No carbs ’til Wednesday” starts this morning and looks like it has 72 hours to run and by which time I shall hope my body has been re-engineered into its original svelte shape, however I may nor survive. To make matters worse I shall also have adopted a well-known saying from decades ago, this one coined by conservative politician Norman Tebbett; “on yer bike”. He was referring to the unemployed and was suggesting a practical interpretation of Keynesian economic theory about the mobility of the workforce. As I am neither unemployed nor looking for a job I do not see the connection. I have spent over 40 years trying to avoid getting a proper job.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News