Brighton or Dullton?

It got to  about 4pm when she finally gave in. We had been walking around Swanbourne Lake,  (pictured today in the greyness that is England and has been for as long as I can remember) part of the Duke Of Norfolk’s Arundel estate which we reached by bicycle. Then I suggested we cycle down as far as The Black Rabbit and that is where she crumbled. “I’m thirsty” I said after a bike ride of more than 1 mile, as was quite reasonable, “Do you think they might sell us a glass of water” I said disingenuously and by the look in that nice lady decorators eyes I could tell that I had struck gold. Therefore later on, after several pints of Fursty Ferret I was able to blame our down fall on her lack of resistance. The fact that she told me later than she fancied a pint but was unwilling to make the first move only came to light after a couple there and an afternoon cap next door at The White Hart. However, I do not want you running off with the idea that the visit next door was for anything other than business purposes. Wild Willy Barrett has a gap in his diary on 10th November and will be in the area and thus it was my duty to see if I could find him a venue at which to showcase Wild Willy Barrett’s French Connection, recently featured on French TV.

Swanbourne Late in Arundel. Note the grey water.

This afternoon I shall be in the gay capital of south of England, Brighton, in readiness this evening for the premiere (for me) showing of the new James Bond film Skyfall. I will be checking the work of my friendly helicopter pilot friend and contented Currencies Direct client Marc Wolff’s work on the film and suspect I would be a tad less critical had I received tickets for the premiere in the Royal Albert Hall earlier in the week. I have been carefully losing regularly to him at chess on line in order to underline my deserving case for tickets but, as the postman failed to arrive with the hoped for good news, ie a trip to London to rub shoulders with the great and good, the metaphorical gloves are now off and there will be no more sympathy. I could say I am going to huff him for not taking me but I think that is a different game, and talking of different games, rather obliquely, brings me back (against the wall) to Brighton, which, given the recent grey and damp weather, should perhaps be renamed Dullton.

I believe that it is one of the favourite places in England for my style guru Mr Humphreys (when he is free) and in deference to him and the whole uphill gardening fraternity, I shall be more careful than usual in deciding what to wear. I like the idea of my Ralph Lauren green outfit but that nice lady decorator leans more towards salmon pink. Decisions, decisions. As we may then decide to find out a little more about the allure and reputation of Brighton as a Mecca for all things camp, that decision could have a bearing on where we end up (can I say that?). I would want to be careful about not ending up a back alley.

There is a bleak desert ahead of me next week on the social horizon, so I must make the most of the weekend starting with today. I know this is rather a late start for a weekend which, in the south of France starts around Thursday lunchtime and extends to about Tuesday night, but that is England for you and one must make the most of the few opportunities to enjoy one’s self.

Chris France

@Valbonne_News