Not a patch on a pirate?

Dodging the snow showers, a sure sign according to the folks up north that summer was imminent, we set off back towards the sultry south, duty having been done amongst the great unwashed Currencies Direct customers of the north,

It had been a splendidly short visit, and my worries that the anti-freeze which was omnipresent in the engine of the Merc may not have been sufficient to allow the car to start, were unfounded, enabling us to escape the frozen north for the comparatively balmy south. For balmy, read 13 degrees, about the average in a poor January in Valbonne, but with that shoulder-hunching burden that comes with being up north gradually dissipating, we were looking forward to a dinner engagement with Colin The Pirate and his sultry goddess the wonderful Sandra.

Now I thought that neither of the above were regular readers of this column, but in any event, That Nice Lady Decorator had taken me to task for calling him One Eyed Colin, a rather cruel reference to a lazy eye, so I had changed it to Colin The Pirate. Regular readers will be aware that spending any significant time in my company will usually eventually elicit some rudeness from me, but I was told that I did not know Colin well enough to insult him, yet. It was when he opened the door and stood there in full pirate costume shouting “Ahoy, Jim Lad, pieces of eight” and the like, and sporting a very eye-catching eye patch, that it began to dawn on me that perhaps I was more widely read that I had previously thought. The final touch was the centrepiece of the dinner table where a full-sized mechanical talking parrot rested. It had been pre-programmed to respond to names. It’s response to “Chris” was a rather unflattering “Captain Pugwash?” in a questioning tone. I suppose justice was done, one-all and an honourable draw.

Pirate party

The parrots response to That Nice Lady Decorator was “happy birthday” and wisely, the lovely Sandra was greeted with the entirely accurate “sultry goddess”. Saying Colin loudly brought “One Eyed Colin” and on balance, I think I prefer that. After all it could have been”optometrist very optimistic”, but that would have been too much of a mouthful (which is exactly why I deserve). Their puppy is called Homer and he was not to be left out. His response was “big black stud” which, if I am honest, more accurately described my god self, but that is a matter for discussion on another day.

After dinner, accompanied by a magnum of a rather nice Medoc, and a really good Taylor’s vintage port, to which, had I not been tired having spent 9 hours driving over the past two days, I would have had a much more intimate acquaintance, we discussed our hosts forthcoming holiday break to Hampshire. Had we been going with them and their dog then it could truly have been 5 go mad in The New Forest. Homer would of course had to be renamed Timmy, and I would have been angling for something a little stronger than lashings of ginger beer, and been looking forward to some references to being very licky but I think l have laboured that joke long enough.

And so, after seven days of continual work, interspersed with a few drinks, and with the damage wrought to my now even more corpulent frame, diet day has commenced. This is a very daring enterprise for a Friday, as the temptation of it being a bank holiday weekend and living next door to a pub may combine to undermine the good intentions, but a general jaded malaise may still come to my rescue. Find out in tomorrows thrilling instalment.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News