A Peachy day

Phase two of the book launch was almost as successful a day as day one and had its own highlights. I think the earliest highlight was when Peachy was introduced to the hitherto relatively unknown (to me)! Anthea Buck, who innocently asked if she might have seen him somewhere before? His riposte “do you watch a lot of Porn?” was probably not what I would have said in those circumstances but then I am not man mountain Peachy Butterfield. It could have turned out even worse because he went on to suggest that her husband, John Buck, had the perfect name for a career in the porn industry. Luckily they both found this and him amusing and later joined an impromptu gathering to watch the rugby back at ours.

Before that, appetites nurtured, we headed once again for Valbonne Square to take lunch in the sunshine. Peachy was in particularly fine form as he was without his minder, the lovely Suzanne, who had forsaken day 2 of the launch of The Valbonne Monologues to go skiing for the morning at nearby Greoliere with the impossible old smoothie Anthony “Dock Of The Bay”. This meant that there was no calming influence, no hand brake in sight and, as he said; “lucky Suzanne is not here otherwise I would have had my legs slapped several times by now”. He had just loudly concluded a statement about his own tantric sex having lasted since February.

The square was awash with happy customers from the launch and I captured this moment of my new book clearly captivating a number of people over their lunch, including on the left Wayne Brown from Red Radish. Catering. John Buck, the man with the ideal name for a porn star is on the right.

Sponsor Jeroen Zatt ABK Propertieswas a no show, obviously broken after the antics of yesterday, I held the mantle for Currencies Direct, Peter Bennett from Blue Water Yachtingwas becalmed somewhere and Dancing Greg Harris from Côte d’Azur Villashad danced off to Palma, whilst my final sponsor, Marina Kulikarrived late to pick up her order of 50 books.

I have had tears, wailing and gnashing of teeth from people who have been unable to get to Cafe Latin at the appointed launch times, but fear not, there is now an ample supply of both paperbacks and hardbacks in The English Book CentreValbonne, some are signed by the author himself. Talking of ample, Peachy Butterfield also has copies available to purchase, so if you see a gargantuan man in bright red trousers and livid green shirt stalking about Valbonne, he will be able to satisfy your literary needs but do not ask him about tantric sex.

A small lunch today at home has got a little out of hand, mainly because That Nice Lady Decorator, in a prosecco-distressed state yesterday, cannot remember who she has invited, thus numbers for whom to be catered and having enough chairs are now issues. It seems we have sufficient stores of “Card Bordeaux” to withstand an invasion of the Zulus but this being a Sunday, those 5 fishes and two loaves (or was it the other way around – The Reverend Jeff will know) might have to stretch a long way.

Thus this afternoon will be another write off, and with tennis and lunch at Auberge St Donat scheduled for tomorrow, I expect to be a broken man before it is time to slope back to the dank and dreary UK to lick my metaphorical wounds and regroup ready for the next trip back to France next month.

Chris France