Deaf or hard of heron?

Here at last! Valbonne in the sunshine, is it real or a dream?

We Left Bourges yesterday morning after I made a brief attempt at wild life photography. Walking around the large lake close to the town I spotted a heron, normally very timid birds, standing on a small jetty beside the water. I slowly and quietly made my way as close as possible, hoping it was a bit deaf (some, although not an author of this note, might say the hope was that it was hard of heron) but his deaf aid must have kicked in so as he took off for his meeting with the ear specialist and it became an action shot.

Heron at Bourges

Getting home in the mid afternoon, there really was only one course of action to be followed. The rose was open in a flash, still a little left as the locust Sprogs had arrived two days earlier and discovered and dispatched several carefully concealed hoards of supplies. Cold beers preceded this and a short siesta was required before regathering for the inevitable foray into Valbonne Square.

It was here that I was to encounter the Wingco for the first time in several months. He was less than impressed when, after a few minutes of idle chit-chat, the subject of this column was raised, almost inevitably, by me. The Wingco has an alarmingly low opinion of the majestic prose that my followers expect from this daily dose of life, as seen through my eyes, and has been known to use the word “ghastly” more than once when asked to comment upon it. He is extremely well-educated and does not react well to any mention of my enormous writing abilities in general or this blog in particular. So it was very gratifying when, over dinner in Valbonne Square, the subject of this very text which you are at this moment consuming with a hunger so pronounced, was brought up, so to speak.

As a grammar school boy myself, the level of education to which I was subjected was so far below the levels to which the publicly schoolboy educated (and Currencies Direct client) Wingco and his contemporaries were treated, but I was able to correct him on a point of grammar in one of his many diatribes about this blog and my writing. He used the phrase “didn’t used to” at some stage, I know not in which context because the monologue on my shortcomings had continued for some 20 minutes without a break for breath and without a single opportunity to interrupt him, but I know for a fact that this is bad English. The correct way would have been to say “he used not to…”. When he finally ran out of steam, I pointed this out, rather too loudly, as most of the diners in Valbonne Square could hear, he was not best pleased. So the normal cut and thrust of my relationship with him has carried on seamlessly over a year after I first left.,

Yes, Valbonne Square, that teeming microcosm of life in the fast lane, metaphorically with too many drivers and not enough cars, was in full effect, loud and well attended. Amongst the people whom I encountered was the lovely Judy Lynn, the wife of one of the funniest men it has ever been my pleasure to meet, the tallest comedic pensioner in the world, Monsieur Pierre le Grand, Peter Lynn, who confirmed that he is still upset with, and not talking to me for a bungled mixing up of social occasions some two years ago. Also in attendance was the gloriously regal Helen Blackburn, another stalwart of the music business with songwriting interests spanning the world ( including some songs by Peters and Lee) who arrived back in Mougins yesterday after a long absence. Welcome home indeed.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News