Fireworks catch fire shock

Jealousy is a very emotive word. The green eye of this avaricious commandment was much in evidence when I rocked up to the Vignale tennis club yesterday morning in my hand tailored green matching shorts, or “pyjamas”, as one jealous former Public Schoolboy described my matching lime green shirt and shorts ensemble, but I am not stupid. I can see jealousy when it is staring me in the face. He has clearly never before had the foresight to go to Kenya, where this natty outfit was made to measure for me in 24 hours for less than £6, under 8 euros at today’s very competitive Currencies Direct exchange rate. I still don’t like That Nice Lady Decorator’s description of me (the jolly green giant) when so stylishly attired.

The tennis was of a high standard, at least as far as I was concerned, but I was deeply let down by my partner of the day, Blind Lemon Milsted, who managed to live up to the “blind” portion of his epithet on the tennis court, to the extent I am not sure we actually won. But who really cares which team is victorious when you are playing in bright sunshine with good friends and have the added prospect of lunch afterwards at Auberge St Donat? Certainly not I, although our opponents referring to themselves as “les cocks sportives” was mildly inflammatory. When I decided not to make an issue of this clear intent to rile me, and made some gentle sporting remark in praise of the other team, comprising the Wingco and Mr Clipboard, the Wingco remarked that there was “No need to be self-deprecating, other people will do that for you”.

Talking of inflammatory, we went last night to see the fireworks in Cannes, this time presented by France. The show itself was very impressive but what was really exciting was what happened afterwards. One of the barges from which the fireworks are launched caught fire and continued the display, although in a less orderly fashion, for at least half an hour after the appointed finish time, with fire crews in attendance. I have a picture of one particular unscheduled explosion.

Fireworks go wrong in Cannes

Aboard L’Exocet were several of the usual suspects including Loudmouth Largy and the redoubtable man mountain Peachy Butterfield. Peachy was in his usual ebullient mood, but we were all glad when he moved away from the fireworks side of the boat as it was listing alarmingly under the weight of the mountain. Being a non swimmer, I had bravely eschewed the wearing of a life jacket, mainly, it has to be said, because of the Master Mariner Mundell prank of pulling the toggle and inflating it when I was wearing it on my first trip out, much to his and the amusement of everyone else aboard. He declared it was the best 30 euros (the cost of recharging it) he had ever spent. However, whilst Peachy was perched, I rather less bravely kept an eye on the life jacket store.

I am seeing some alarming pictures if a tornado which accompanied the vicious thunderstorm which hit the Côte d’Azur on Monday morning. It seems that the storm ruined many of the pre prepared fireworks, many if which had to be replaced at short notice, and may well have been the root cause of the unscheduled later display.

The last tennis with Mr Clipboard will take place this evening before he returns to England. He says it is because of pressure of work, but as he has not had a job for a very long period of time (much like blind Lemon Milsted), I suspect that he has become tired of the beatings he has had to endure at my hands on the tennis court, and is scurrying back for some relief and lessons.

Chris France

@Valbonne_News