Sales of The Valbonne Monologues mount

A delightful lunch at the Mill at Elstead, near Guildford, culminated in yet another sale of my latest book The Valbonne Monologues. It was not just the sale, although that was welcome, and the hundredth happy purchaser cannot be far away, it was the fact that it was bought by the lovely Ashley, wife of Currencies Direct client Mr Clipboard, who, to be frank, gets a bit of a roasting in this fine novel. I had given him the opportunity to get his own back with a comment on the back cover. His offering, referring to my first book and my writing in general was “as appealing as sucking warm diarrhoea through a tramps sock”.

Happy author delighted that Mr Clipboard is now the happy owner of a new book

I use the word roasting advisedly. Those of you that have already read the book, and I am amongst those who have been enthralled by the contents, will know that Mr Clipboard is pictured; caught in the act one might say, of setting fire to a copy of my first book Summer In The Côte d’Azur. There were further examples of this public schoolboy jealousy of a grammar school boy having the audacity to publish a book. These were in evidence as recently as yesterday. I was sent a photo of some copies of my second literary offering placed in a fire grate at my house in Valbonne with a comment suggesting that as it was cold over there, and they needed to light a fire to keep warm, my book might produce the best results when starting it. Those enjoying a convivial lunch down in the south of France where this sin was being enacted included the Naked Politician and Slash and Burn Thornton Allan. I know where they both live.

Over lunch with the stately and wonderful former school teacher, my dear Auntie Pam, she made a startling revelation which ensured that I should be careful when referring to her a school mistress. It is the mistress part that bothers me. Some years ago, when she was a mere stripling of around 80, she was asked by a friend to do some proof reading of some books her friend had written. It seems that these books were destined for the top shelves of book shops, being of a rather racy nature, so racy that my dear Aunt said that 50 Shades Of Grey, which she has also read, was tame by comparison. When pressed as to the type of content she mentioned spanking but would not be drawn further.

She went on to reveal further hidden depths. It seems that, with a friend, she once visited Roger Moore, who mixed her and a friend a drink, and shortly afterwards admitted to riding out with two-thirds of Cream. Eric Clapton and Ginger Baker both owned horses and would often ride out in Richmond Park in her earlier days when she also had a horse. She must be telling the truth otherwise how on earth does a lady of her age have any knowledge of iconic 60’s band Cream? As an added test I asked her the name of the other member of the group . “Oh, Jack Bruce” she said, “never met him but a good bass player” she said. Hidden depths.

Back in Arundel, we decided that early doors at The Swan Hotel for a pint of London Pride was the best option available. Of course, just the two were not enough, so, after those two, we adjourned to the White Hart for a snack before bedtime. There were further revelations but sadly I had consumed too much to make a note and this morning I cannot remember details. Suffice to say that I had thought that Nice Lady Decorator was the only rock chick in the family, but that opinion may have to be reappraised. Actually, come to think if it, there were those TV pictures of Sprog 2 at Reading Festival during the Kaiser Chiefs appearance….

Chris France
@Valbonne_News