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Largy than life

July 22, 2013

Bluebell the camper took us to Port de la Rague to witness some fireworks. There were the real things taking place in Cannes, but we were expecting fireworks on board L’Exocet, the lovely sailing yacht owned by Currencies Direct Master Mariner Mundane, before we got to Cannes.

The reason was twofold: Old Harrovian Largy was aboard, but so was his estranged wife and children and it had a curiously restraining influence on his loud, brutish and often very funny pronouncements, at least until his wife had left after we had returned to port. We bailed about and went to sleep in Bluebell at about 1 a.m. but we discovered that the hardcore batted on until well after 3 p.m. Perhaps that was the reason they were not best pleased to see us when we arrived back at the boat at 8.30 this morning, armed with baguettes and eggs as instructed the previous evening, before a desultory walk later on from where I took this picture.

a calming walk

Fireworks over

The second reason was to try to get to the bottom of a curious personal situation regarding Dangerous Jackie Lawless, but sadly she had a previous engagement, or was it a marriage?, something like that. With our normal hostess unavailable we had to nominate a volunteer to serve the drinks and, by a landslide, That Nice Lady Decorator was appointed, subject to review, and handled her duties extremely diligently, especially when serving herself.

The firework display viewed from the sea side looking towards the Carlton and the Martinez hotels was another wonderful spectacle, this time produced by Italy. There was a great deal of noise and lots of colour but perhaps a lack of substance, or is that too cruel a caricature? I swear I saw fireworks that looked like a white flag at one stage during the show. Of course I jest. It was almost as good as the first show on July 4th, and much better that the deficit-reducing Greeks the week before. I guess then we were lucky to get much more than a few sparklers and a Roman candle.

But back to Largy. He has an impossibly deep booming voice that has a great carry. At his peak I think he could be heard in Marseille, his peak being reached when he has consumed several litres of rosé. I believe that he was able to blot out the noise of the trains thundering past from time to time on the viaduct behind Theoule Sur Mer, but as I was comatose, I cannot be certain.

We also had two spies on board. Anthony “Dock Of The” Bay is an impossible old smoothie, as charming as James Bond and with the prescience that suggests intrigue. Charlie the Spy was the second suspected member of this secret profession, so secret that both deny it. Thus intrigue followed intrigue.

The downside of awaking in the camper, apart from the lack of toilet facilities, is that if one is parked in the sunshine, as soon as the sun is up it heats up very quickly and a lie-in is not possible. Hence the reason we were up so comparatively early. The other downside of this morning was that I thought I had lost my phone, hence the lateness of today’s slice of sparkling wit and prose, but calling it from the home phone when we got back to Valbonne, it started ringing in That Nice Lady Decorators handbag, much to my dismay.

Recovery day today, perhaps a light lunch and a few drinks in the pav this evening with our house guests, but as I write I have resolved never to drink again, and I will hold dear to that until at least early evening.

Chris France

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