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Money goes to ones head

July 24, 2013

Charley the Spy and his lovely wife Lizzy finally departed yesterday morning, but I managed to get a photo of of two golfing pals, one rather happier than the other, after the ceremonial handing over of the customary 10 euro wager (£8.50 or so at today’s very competitive Currencies Direct exchange rates). It was a relief as they were entirely to blame for the pictures on Facebook yesterday relating to a certain Decorating operative dancing on the roof of her car after lunch yesterday,will have to wait until tomorrow, No, I have no idea why she would want to dance on her car but perhaps there were no tables available?

10 euros wager

A spy and a successful author

You would think that playing tennis at 11 am for two hours in 32 degrees heat and bright sunshine might be enough exercise for the day, but The Wingco had other ideas. Over a refreshing ale following a fine victory by me in American singles, before the rules were changed, he accepted an invitation on our behalf to play again at 7 pm, this time with Master Mariner Mundell and dancing Greg Harris from Cote d’Azur Villas.

There was the small matter of lunch to be dealt with first, and although later than normal, the Wingco managed to sweet talk the waiter at the Auberge St Donat into serving just the main course and a desert whilst we limited our intake to merely a bottle of wine and an extra glass between us. This was after several litres of lager at the Vignale, and represented a very considerably curtailed intake compared with yesterday ahead of more tennis in the evening.

However, I must issue a public rebuke to Loudmouth Largy. He was not at all loudmouthed today because he did not turn up, nor did he answer his phone and so unless he is dead or at the very least seriously injured, there can be no excuse for leaving three chaps on a tennis court bereft of a 4th. I dealt very easily with the subsequent American tennis, which is played by three people, winning by a handsome margin before the two public schoolboys, The Wingco and Mr Clipboard, changed the rules and then conspired together to ensure I would not win their newly adjusted regulations. Mr Clipboard should be particularly ashamed given his obvious attempts to lose, so that I could not win. Thereafter we had all the usual insincere claptrap about playing the game but his guilty expression shone through. He should be ashamed? But that would require a conscience and I believe he is still searching for his.

A day of quiet solitude and contemplation was really what we so should be looking at today, but the social merry go round refuses to slow up, and so we are on the train to Antibes this morning to spend a day aboard Sea Breeze, the splendid Fleming cruiser belonging to Roly and Poly Bufton. As I write it seems uncertain as to whether we shall be dining on board or going to a restaurant, but Juan les Pins is a fab spot in summer. Either will be bliss in the continuing hot and sunny weather, which seems at last to have departed dear old England.

Four more weeks of this life will see me having regained all those lost pounds but I put it down to water retention due to the heat. That Nice Lady Decorator does not entirely agree, considering it to be more of a case of fat retention, but nothing could be further from the truth. I am shaped like a whippet.

Chris France

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