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Old and Haggard?

December 14, 2012

The contrast was startling. 28 degrees when we left Dubai, minus 3 degrees when we arrived at Heathrow. Prince Charles will be disappointed, the 3 Degrees were one of his favourite groups. I shall take good care of myself after the intensive partying in which I have indulged on my working holiday to Bangkok and Australia. All good things must come to an end.

I can almost hear the combined intake of breath  as you read the penultimate sentence, but I would contend that it was just that, a working holiday.  I have at least one new customer for Currencies Direct as a result of my trip, using the expression “working holiday” in this context is entirely justified and my accountant can expect a fulsome claim imminently. With this column being produced daily, and with it being a shameless, cynical attempt subliminally to promote this benefits of opening a Currencies Direct account, in my opinion there is the case for all expenses to be tax-deductible, including the secretarial services of that Nice Lady Decorator.

But, not for the first time, I digress. The shocking change in temperature has started the hibernation process, although that could be jet-lag. I have spent the day yesterday shivering, but arguably that could at least, in part, be due to it being the first day without a drink since about October. I found this picture in my phone describing an ancient and decrepit area in Australia, which  seems rather apt in the circumstances.

Old and Haggard rocks

Old and Haggard? sounds like a couple of English opening bowlers

One of the advantages of jet lag when the England cricket team is playing a test match in India, is that a being wide awake at 3.30am has its advantages,  as one can switch on the TV and watch the game live due to the time difference. This was my lot earlier this morning so doubtless I will be asleep half the day. The words “how can you tell” spring to mind.

Today I must go into LA , as the locals call Littlehampton, to collect my bike. Yesterday, under intense pressure from my honed and vibrant body, the chain snapped whilst I was on a pursuit. These pursuits are supposed to last no more than 10 seconds, followed by 50 seconds of mild exercise, but the chain was too weak to take the sustained pressure. That is how I see it, but the warnings that the chain would snap, annoyingly issued by that Nice Lady Decorator, concerned about my lack of oiling the chain after cycling on the beach now look quite prescient.

The scourge of Christmas shopping is now a daily danger, give that there are now just a handful of shopping days until Xmas. At least in the modern digital world, much can be done from one’s computer screen, but even now, one is forced to venture out into that retail jungle, so beloved by that Nice Lady Christmas Shopper, and abhorred by yours truly. I will be so glad when it is all over.

It could not last. I have heard (or maybe  in was just a dream?) that more than one day without a drink for a regular drinker can damage one’s liver, so with my health primarily in mind,  I shall tonight meet up with some locals for an early Christmas drink at the White Hart next door. I expect the gorgeous Kathryn, the Wyatt Earp of Arundel, to be there , ready to row more men out of town, and the Omega goddess to be in the company of James “Desperate Dan” the Landlord. I do hope I am not mistaken.

Chris France

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