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Uplifting toilet decoration

April 3, 2013

It was so cold in the easterly wind that the snow flurries yesterday were going sideways, never reaching the ground. Walking on the beach at Rustington was so unpleasant that it was abandoned after a couple of miles. It had all started so brightly with sunshine and blue skies at 8am but by 9 30 it was all over.

Obviously, after thawing in out, there was work to do on Currencies Direct, and with my discovery of an unauthorised sample of some music I own in a Prodigy recording, necessitating their record company to clear this infringement with me, which just means paying me, it ended up being a good day, except for the excruciatingly cold commute to work in my shed about 20 metres from the back door. Not as good as it could have been, had the Arundel Luncheon Club been convening as originally planned, but not bad, but I was not able to persuade that Nice Lady Decorator to slip out for a pint for early doors as she was on one of her two hour phone calls, so I popped out to order a takeaway curry. With a delay of 25 minutes whilst it was being prepared, what was a man to do except go to the pub? Especially a man about to be subjected once again looking down the barrel of starvation rations, or so I thought until I heard that the venerable school mam Auntie Pam is coming to visit. Anyway, all was well as the phone call was still ongoing when I got back with the food.

So this afternoon, I shall be standing to attention as she inspects the bedrooms, that withering look that can turn a grown man to jelly just lurking out of sight, awaiting the smallest misdemeanour. Actually I love her coming. She is a sweetie but at  85 still as sharp as the proverbial knife. Nothing escapes her, and she likes a half of real ale. She has also read my book The Valbonne Monologues, and she did not hand down any detentions or lines and has declared it quite good. I would like to think that my prose finds favour but I suspect that in reality, she is mellowing, but it is a slow process.

My picture today is of bras. Taken at the Crab and Lobster at Asenby, I have been trying to rationalise why they are there, hanging around in the gents urinal. The only conclusion I have reached so far is that the chaps of Yorkshire did not have many toys as kids and had to make their own amusement.

hanging bras

The uplifting toilet at the Crab and Lobster in Asenby

A light covering of snow is forecast overnight, ready to lighten up this morning. Has no one informed the weather gods that it is April, spring, and the clocks have gone forward? I should be contemplating a glass of wine on the terrace at sunset rather than placing the red wine perilously close to the log fire, just to try to get it at room temperature. That would be about 4 degrees without the fire.

It is also grim down south. I am hearing reports that local (to Valbonne) ski resorts, usually closed two weeks ago, are expected to remain open until the end of April. I so hate global warming. With just one weekend off before another onslaught in Peachyland I am hoping for two things; firstly a restrained week of eating and drinking and secondly some sunshine when we get down to Valbonne next weekend to celebrate a 50th birthday. The lovely Lucy Bird from Red Radish, apparently knows someone who has reached this milestone and is having a party for her. Me, I am delighted that I am still getting invited to 50ths. There are far too many 60ths floating around amongst my age circle for comfort.

Chris France

2 Comments leave one →
  1. Steve Jackson permalink
    April 5, 2013 6:48 pm

    Just reading a couple of back numbers. since when was cleethorps in God’s own County? Geography not your strong suit is it


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