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A bit green?

February 2, 2013

Sideways drizzle, the single most prevalent weather feature in England was once again the bane of my life yesterday. It put paid to my planned “up with the lark” early exercise until later. However, once it had finally stopped raining and under still glowering skies, when I has finally persuaded the trusty cycle to venture outside the bike shed, there was another problem; the bike began to misbehave.

Thinking the brakes had seized up or the gears were suffering after an ill-judged cycle on the beach before leaving for MIDEM, I spent ten minutes fiddling with the back wheel, the chain and gears before I realised the problem was with the front one.  As if to remind me that I have now entered my 60th  year, as I was struggling with the salt encrusted contraption a lady came up to me to ask if  I was OK and if I needed any help. It was a kind thought but it was not the offer of help, but the way she offered that help that stung , it was in that obsequious and concerned way that is often adopted when one is talking to older people, but it is the first time I have been on the receiving  end. Usually I dish it out.

From that you will understand that yesterday was also not a good day. I had just reached the bridge on the way to the Black Rabbit to book it for lunch tomorrow, and had stopped to take this picture because I was struck by the green tinge of growth under the water, when the problem started.  I know this is a tad highbrow for my readership but stay with me. I was also struck by the strange macabre  beauty of the water in front if the mill.

Mill in Arundel

Green bloom in Arundel

I know what you are thinking; he’s been at the juice again but in fact the exact opposite is the case. Another almost teetotal day, being mistaken for an old person in trouble, sideways rain and then the message that Slash and Burn Thornton Allan is not well and there is a chance my day of fun tomorrow will not take place, together conspired to make yesterday memorable for all the wrong reasons.

There were good parts to the day; the sun came out for about ten minutes late in the afternoon, I am going to help a Currencies Direct customer to save over a thousand pounds in a house purchase by saving on the exchange rates and best of all Banjo, the disaster dog owned by that Nice Lady Decorator,  has been muzzled for most of the day. He had clawed and bitten his way through a wooden cupboard door to steal food from the doggy larder, no doubt whilst the properly behaved dog, Max, the aristocratic and obedient well-mannered family pet loved by all, no doubt sat in his basket tutting.  Banjo is the cabine equivalent, and as popular as, an Al Qaeda supporter in a hoody with a dose, and that  is being generous.

So today might not be the fun interlude in a teetotal lock down that I had hoped. As I write I do not know if our visitors are still coming. Man flu is of course very serious, surpassing childbirth in terms of pain, distress and debilitation on most occasions but I know my friend realises my predicament and if he can come then he will. On the other hand there may be an ulterior motive. Cigars. He has promised to bring some so if he fails to arrive then I will smell a rat, instead of the aroma of Havana.

Chris France

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