A nice dream turns into a nightmare

There I was blissfully on the beach at Bondi with the Pacific Ocean crashing on to the shore and the brisk wind in my hair, enjoying the warmth and then I woke up. The noise of the wind was still there, howling in the December gloom, plus the equivalent of the sea, except it was blowing sideways against my window in the form of rain. Normally one has nightmares when one is asleep, this was the other way around, I woke up in a nightmare.

England in general, and Arundel in particular, has many things going for it, but one of those is not the weather. The day before, our first day back from a trip to Australia, had been cold, frosty and slightly Christmasy, yesterday was just disgraceful. I am hoping for better today as it is the  third Saturday in the month and thus the Farmers Market in the town today, plus Carol singing in the Market Square at 10.30 this morning. I will pop down if I am awake, and it is not raining. I am not sure who she is or what she is going to sing but I like to support honest endeavour.

The plan last night to go to the White Hart was destroyed by three factors, the arrival of Sprog 2, thereby opening the official Christmas locust period, the cricket on the TV at 4am and jet lag. The locust reference is a description of what happens to my stocks of food and drink when Sprogs arrive. At this stage, certainly for the next few days, we are at 50% locust coverage, Sprog 2 arrives back later in the week when the full 100% will kick in. I should really have gone to the pub as I have another Currencies Direct client in my sights, and he expected to be there, but jet lag is a tricky animal to tame. Then with the test match against India in the middle of the night nicely poised (in our favour, at least when play started), fatigue and a roaring fire at home impeded my ability to get off the sofa.

The dream beach, Bondi in Australia

Today is predicted to be the highest tide of the month, so with the high winds of yesterday, and as long as it is not raining, we shall venture to the beach at, or maybe Rustington wrapped up to the nines, hoping to see some extreme conditions. In England that seems almost a given.  It helps that there is a pub, indeed pubs in the vicinity. High tide at the coast is around 12.30 and at Arundel at around 1.40pm. There are pubs in Arundel as well, and, as we have denied proper beer for nearly a month, I feel  the need to catch up with my quota.

That theme will be in my mind in the coming week, although I shall be under pressure from that Nice Lady Nutritionalist to keep my powder dry for the Christmas period. Laudable as that might be, it will be very boring and I shall be doing my best to loosen her iron grip on my beer glasses.

Just a small warning; this column has been published daily for over two and a half years, and the mathematicians amongst you may be able to work out from this that my 1000th post is imminent. When it is published, expect a great deal of self-congratulatory stuff, as I feel I will be unable to restrain the deserved praise for the discipline involved daily in exposing the antics of the lives of the idle rich in Valbonne and the idle poor in Arundel.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News