Parade of nations kit unveiled

I was going to have a quiet day working on promoting the benefits of opening an account with Currencies Direct and tidying up the last printing details for my new book The Valbonne Monologues, but there is a problem; with all the pictures I want to include, and being the same format size as my first book “Summer In The Cote d’Azur”, it would run to 450 pages, which is absurd. Discussions with the printers will continue today, but I now have doubts as to whether it can be ready for 14th December, the planned launch date. Watch this space.

The reason I expected a quiet day was that The Nice Lady Decorator had a girly lunch planned with her new friend, Bryan Ferry’s housekeeper. The rock god apparently resides in nearby Fittleworth and the fiercesome and witty Kathryn the Keeper, the Wyatt Earp of Arundel, decided to lunch at the rather lovely George and Dragon at Houghton.

I was dragged into this scenario as I was required to be taxi driver, thus their intentions were fairly clear; a great deal of wine was expected to be consumed whilst the coven gossiped about life in general and men in particular.  It seem that the Nice Lady Decorator’s drinking partner describes herself as that doughty sheriff because she has “been running men out of Arundel since 1999.”

When the taxi driver (me) turned up after lunch to drag them from the pub, the opposite happened and I was dragged into the pub to join them. This turned out to be a slippery slope as on the way home it was suggested that we pop on for a quick one at the White Hart, which, as my pump had been primed so to speak, and they were clearly thirsty, having only drunk two bottles of wine between them in an hour and a half and needed a drink, I stupidly agreed.

Thereafter events are hazy. I know that I ordered and ate a Thai beef salad, not having lunched with the ladies, and bottles of Sancerre and Rioja appearing, and I have some notes on the BlackBerry about egg sizing which I misheard as exercising. Quite why this is funny escapes me. As I said, hazy.

Providing some amusement for the Australians, the Nidderdale Taverners kit

If you want a measure of how the afternoon unfolded, or more accurately collapsed into a heap, I do recall sitting in the pub garden after dark, smoking a cigar and talking cricket with Steve the Wheelchair. Our Australian trip, when I shall once again pick up a cricket bat for the first time in years in readiness for the Golden Oldies Cricket tournament in Adelaide, starting in little over a weeks time, is looming into view and high in my thoughts. The picture above is of that Nice Lady Decorator modelling the team kit which I shall be required to wear at the opening parade of nations. Please note the ridiculous long white socks.

Yes, a parade of nations. It seems there are teams of old crusty cricketing codgers flying in from all over the world to take part a sort of cricket Olympics for the elderly. I can’t wait. Yesterday I emailed our leader, captain of the Nidderdale Taverners, Sir Thomas Ingilby, suggesting that the Australians, in particular, might derive some amusement from our curious attire, but he made the valid point that having lost the last two Ashes series, having a lamentable rugby team and with Yorkshire winning more Olympic medals that Australia, they should be allowed some entertainment, and who am I to deny them.

Chris France

@Valbonne_News