Skyfall’s the limit

So then to the gay capital of the south, Brighton, to catch up on cinematic current events. I hear from old pal Cam Findlay about a meeting he once had with the leader of Brighton Council. Cam was suited and booted, dressed in pinstripes and Church shoes, the leader of the council though was in lime green mohair with matching accessories, sandals and painted toe nails. I do believe my style guru, Mr Humphreys (if he were free) would love to spend some time there. I spent some time there last night to see Skyfall, the new James Bond movie before stepping out into the gay new world to see if I could find a pint of beer or a more likely creme de menthe frappe, but we nearly didn’t make it at all. The Trainline website gave wrong departure information, the ticket office was closed and the automatic ticket machine could not dispense tickets because it had a period, I’m sorry, a printer problem and then with 5 minutes to go the train was cancelled. It was if god wanted us not to see it and in retrospect, and it is hard for me to admit it, but god was right. We had to take the car and brave the Friday evening school run and rush hour in order to be slightly underwhelmed by the film which has had rave reviews.

To me Mr Bond is looking old, hid grey stubble not helping, the plot a bit weak, the villain slightly unbelievable (a gay boy with dyed hair and bad teeth) and although the effects and stunts are stunning they have been caught up and surpassed by the likes of The Bourne Trilogy whose projection of futuristic technology is more effective and believable. OK, so that’s me finished as a cinema critic, but surprisingly the family James Bond expert, that nice lady decorator agreed.

Afterwards we slipped into the White Rabbit for a pint of Spitfire and then across the road to a nice Thai restaurant, which was very good until I discovered it did not have a licence to sell alcohol, then it became less good. Help was at hand as I managed to find a nice bottle of Wolf Blass Shiraz from a nearby off licence to ward off temperance with the help of The Brighton Belles, Anne and Gill, two school friends of that nice lady decorator with whom we met and dined. One is now destined to become a client of Currencies Direct which made dinner an entirely justifiable business expense.

Pig of a table

My picture above today is of a table and which I captured when up north recently. In the south we tend to avoid stuffing animals and then nailing a bit of wood to their backs and calling them tables, but up north they are different.They seem to like to do that sort of thing. Personally it is not my style and anyone who claims differently is telling porky pies.

Just as exotic is the celebration of Diwali that is happening in Sophia Antipolis in considerably better weather near Valbonne. I would love to have gone but it would be too much of a long trip to return, so long that I would be unable to dilly dawahli on the way.

With the promise at last of bright if cold weather today we plan to walk part of the South Downs Way and The Monarchs Trail and be in the pub for lunch by midday. The pub may well be the George and Dragon at Houghton but one cannot be sure because I am subject to changes of plan at short notice being handed down our dear leader.

Chris France

@Valbonne_News