Pole dancing or Morris dancing?

The howling wind and sleety rain showers were exactly the type of miserable weather to compliment a 600 calorie diet day. Misery seems to go well with more misery. We had decided to explore the public footpaths round Goodwood, an area which also boasts a number of pubs which have been recommended to us since we moved to Arundel last summer. The inclement weather was the perfect antidote to any Friday afternoon “pint in the sunshine” temptation to which we may have been subjected in different conditions, and so a diet day remained intact. That Nice Lady Decorator was unamused as we dashed up a hill overlooking the racecourse in strengthening rain, when I mentioned that it is merely 4 weeks before the nights start drawing in again, and we shall have to consider setting some logs in for the winter.

It had been a long week, so a night without alcohol and time to consider events was a bit of a relief. It started last weekend in Cannes with lunch on the beach in British weather, the march of the 100 Otway’s up the Croisette during the Cannes Film Festival, and then that epic sail over to St Tropez for lunch on Monday, followed by a dinner up north with some dear, if rather unsophisticated friends and then dinner with a pirate and his beautiful partner. No need to Roger the cabin boy here. So rather than use a picture from a dank and dreary Britain, I thought today’s picture should be of happier times. It is of That Nice Lady Decorator practising her well-known pole dancing skills on the way back anoard Master Mariner Mundane’s boat L’Exocet.

Slippery slope or greasy pole?

Today, after a morning constitutional , I believe there is a plan to attend Burpham Fete, mainly it has to be said, because it is being staged next door to the George and Dragon on the cricket ground and it is a pleasant 2 mile walk and I feel a couple of pints and a spot of lunch coming on, before pin the tale on the yokel or whatever passes for sport in these parts nowadays.

Actually, I am being slightly disingenuous as I do enjoy the Englishness of a village fete and in fact, have not been to one for several years as I have lived in France, and we tend to go the beach and have a sumptuous fish lunch with lashings of rose in the sunshine, rather than hide under umbrellas with Wellington boots, eating cold cream teas and rock cakes that are as hard as their names suggest. However, it is just that, the very Englishness of the entertainment for which I have a sneaking admiration, unless there are Morris Dancers. I draw the line at Morris Dancers, well, unless I could have a hit record with some of them. You see I have a reputation for being involved in err… unusual recordings. Who could forget the classic Supermarioland, or the Rolf Harris version of Bohemian Rhapsody, or my forays into Eurovision with Sam Fox? Well, all of you I hope.

So expect a report tomorrow on the Burpham Fete, unless the weather forecast is wrong and it is not as sunny as they say it will be. As I look out of the window this morning the jury is still out. Sun and cloud in equal measure, although far superior to the dreadful weather of yesterday, could go either way. It is difficult to see what might happen, a bit like a badger on a zebra crossing.

I have just read this through and it is very good, except for the fact that I have omitted to mention the benefits that can be bestowed upon one by signing up with Currencies Direct, which is a bad omission considering that was the reason this column came to life. Never mind, there is always tomorrow.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News