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Floodwaters about to break?

December 21, 2012

There is a Mayan prophecy that predicts that the end of the world will be today, 21st December 2012, the end of a cycle lasting over 5000 years. Because of that, and in case they are right, I felt duty bound to go out for a last lunch yesterday to Belinda’s in Arundel. However, I am not sure all Mayan followers are convinced about the accuracy of this prediction as they are still selling holidays to see the remains of the Mayan artefacts well into 2013.

I needed lunch, after a pint of London Pride at the newly refurbished White Swan Hotel in Arundel, to which I had not ventured since staying there when we first viewed the little house where we are now living. My excuse was the Mayan thing, and, with the weather truly horrible again, I had decided to put my best foot forward and head to the beach and take exercise. Having now twice broken the chain on my bike through over vigorous intent, I thought it better to explode into fitness on a beach in a gale and driving wind, where I could do no harm. Damage had already been done. The sea defences have been badly ravaged by the high tides of last week and today’s picture was taken of the River Arun at about the same time, and, as you can see, an Ark may have to be considered if this continues.

high tide on river Arun

High tide in Arundel

Belinda’s was quaint but charming. Not open in the evening, it concentrates on the cream tea, cakes and puddings brigade but was a very suitable place to take one’s aunt, especially as she was under orders from her young man to visit; he is 90 and it is his favourite place to visit when he comes to play the organ at the cathedral, I shall need to meet him to ensure his suitability as a partner.

With the errant plumber still on a different plain, (can I say at this juncture that his arrival at the appointed time was just a pipe dream (or would that be below the standards usually expected of jokes in this column? no, I thought not), the smelly unshowered contingent decamped in the evening to the White Hart, which was rammed, and where we happened upon the Wyatt Earp of Arundel, the wonderfully sparky Kathryn, who made a point of insisting that she never again features in this column. I made the promise sincerely, but everyone knows that a statement made under duress is worthless. She seems blissfully unaware of the convention of duress, or my unreliability when it comes to adhering to promises made in this way, so she must expect a starring role should she ever deviate from her intended course of sobriety and calm serenity.

The full house of Sprogs made an excellent start to the Christmas break, starting with shots and then several Jack Daniels and coke, all at my expense of course. Mixing a bourbon with coke is a ridiculous waste of bourbon but they seemed happy enough taking me to the cleaners, a rather apt description given the lack of hot water at home at the moment. With the venerable and aged aunt tiring (yes, she had stood up to lunch and then a trip to a rowdy pub), we adjourned home where I suddenly panicked and realised that if the end of the world really is going to occur today, I needed to set fire to a few cigars and drink some of that St Emilion sent as huge expense from France in the summer, so must break off now to continue the good work. I hope this is not good-bye, just au revoir.

Chris France

2 Comments leave one →
  1. December 21, 2012 11:11 am

    Awaiting a plumber is like Tantric Sex.
    You stay in all day and nobody comes.


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