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Spring in your step?

April 20, 2013

I have had several people desperate toknow about a link to the kindle store in order to secure a copy of The Valbonne Monologues, but do not worry, they will not sell out, in the same fashion as has the author. If you click on this brown writing it will take you straight to the kindle site where you can buy Valbonne Monologues now.

So after a meagre breakfast of two slices of brown Nimble and some steamed mushrooms (about 115 calories) I dragged myself around Slindon Woods in a quickly tiring state bemoaning the fact that today is another diet day, and further bemoaning the fact that I was wearing a hoody, a jacket, gloves, and walking boots on order to deal with the cold and the mud, I arrived back to see an email from old pal Slash and Burn Thornton Allan. He is staying in Valbonne this week where it is sunny and warm and thoughtfully sent me a picture of my swimming pool he took at breakfast this morning, where he had been tucking in to eggs, bacon, fried bread, mushrooms and baked beans. If he were not a customer of Currencies Direct, he would be off my Christmas card list.

Spring in Cote d'Azur

Poolside breakfast taken by Slash and Burn Thornton Allan from The Big Picture

The sun did come out a little in the afternoon and the gale force wind dropped to merely very strong so it was comparatively pleasant when we walked in early evening along the banks of the River Arun, but you will note the use of the word “comparatively”. A good analogy would be gaining contentment from being beaten up rather than suffer genital torture. Eleven and a half months more exile before any return to France for extended periods can be considered . As we arrived back to walk through the pub garden, a number of hardy souls were outside “enjoying” the weather and starting their weekends. Pints of beer, laughing, smoking, I was doing none of those, but others were. My weekend will not start until today after dietary denigration has dissolved.

Sprog 1 is due back today so I have bribed him with a tank of petrol to take us to a few pubs to the west of Chichester that we have heard are all wonderful. Luckily he loves driving more than he likes drinking, so it works for us both as I am exactly the opposite. With that Sunshine in the forecast, at least for today, I shall be making the most of it. The pubs I have in mind all have gardens.

The next week will be quiet with a huge party set to unfold next weekend in Monaco. The Naked Politician is staging a huge bash to celebrate a barely significant (if you are my age) birthday of the lovely Dawn, his  handbrake wife. It will start with a champagne reception at the Cafe de Paris, moving onto the Buddah Bar for dinner, then to the Casino to do a James Bond impression followered by dancing at Jimmy’s from midnight until 5am, so you can see that a certain of restraint and training will be required in order not to peak too early. In order to pretend that we are as wealthy as he and his friends, we shall stay at the Meridian Plage Hotel in Monte Carlo and lick the financial wounds afterwards.

This faces me with a dilemma, which is not anything to do with the leader of the Tibetan spiritual movement as Peachy Butterfield is no doubt now aware. Should I attempt an abstemious week, eschewing strong drink and saving myself for the bash if the year, or should I consider gradually increasing my intake and staying up later and later to get into training, in much the way I am told one trains for a marathon? Well it is not much of a dilemma for me, but persuading that Nice Lady Decorator to adopt the alternative I would choose will be more difficult.

Chris France

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