Commuting horror again

I was reminded yesterday of the true horror of commuting to London. Occasionally, my prescence is required in the city to ensure the smooth functioning of the global music business. Thus I found myself on the train from Arundel to Victoria at the ungodly hour if 9.46, when I discovered, to my surprise, that it is light.

It must be something to do with summer, and that was amply illustrated by the sunshine hysteria that grips inhabitants in the UK when the sun is out and the temperature rises. As I walked across Green Park in pleasant spring warmth, I was struck by the range of inappropriate clothing in view, hopefully inspired by the weather. I also saw some sights that I wish I had not. When one is some 20 stone, bra and pants are not a good fashion statement. I would have taken a picture, but still feeling queasy after the bank holiday barbecue, I could not face it and instead took this picture of the tulips outside Buckingham palace. Less controversial I know, but as I say, the stomach was not ready for such an image.

Buckingham Palace flowers. A better photo option

On the train back at just after 2pm, the trial was nearly over and the long commute completed by 3.30, by which time I was exhausted. I even avoided the golden opportunity offered by a visit from French ex-pat renegades Neil and Fiona Blackley, on their way to see Eddie Izzard in Brighton, when instead of a glass of wine, we joined them in a cup of tea. Poor Neil who is about 6ft 5 inches tall, spent the entire time in our house stooped under out low beams and looking at me, as his name suggests, Blackley. However I must not be rude about him as he has offered us free use of their fabulous house in Barbados at some stage. In return he will be welcome to use our rather more modest house in the South if France. I know who is getting the best deal. After sitting in the sunshine, we went for a stroll around Arundel where once again I saw the Walking Stick shop and was reminded of my desire to own a silver topped cane, but one look from That Nice Lady Decorator was enough. She considers that having such an item to be ageing, indeed I have heard her mumbling something about nursing homes should I ever arrive home with one. So for now, as I want to remain without cares for the time being, I will bottle up this desire.

We discussed that appalling motor boat accident in Cornwall because, as it turns out, I knew Nico, the husband who was killed and had played golf with him in France less than two years ago. They know the family even better, and one of my dearest friends, Mr Clipboard, better still, Nico was the best man at his wedding and Clipboard is godfather to the children. A very sad day, as one that has reminded me of my bucket list, or things that must be done before you die. I will begin planning that early winter trip to Thailand and Goa later this week.

The summer is clearly over as the rain was lashing down this morning and as I write has now turned into sideways drizzle, and I can feel the early morning good humour evaporating as I write. Not even the uplifting experience of the joy of finding another customer for Currencies Direct can raise my spirits. Death, rain and a diet day are the three witches with whom I must contend today.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News