More fire-work in Valbonne Square

I would not have thought that he would take it so badly, but the Wingco, fresh from his thrashing by my good self and Mr Clipboard, (albeit by dint of a closely fought tie break) seemed rather deflated by his defeat when we met up later in Valbonne Square. Or it may have been because we have all recently noticed his resemblance to Josef Stalin and commented upon it to his clear discomfort.

It was an impromptu gathering, decided upon after early evening tennis at the Vignale. Being Mr Clipboard’s last evening in Valbonne before his long drive back to the UK tomorrow, he was understandably keen for it to be a memorable occasion, and he clearly wanted to make his mark but sadly the mark he wanted to make was on me.

Many of you, my dear readers, will know that nowadays I sport a splendid handlebar moustache which, on special occasions, I wax in a Daliesque manner, not to wind him up as was his contention (I may be being slightly disingenuous here) but more in recognition of a special occasion. All was going splendidly. We had eaten quite well, a slightly unusual occurrence at Cafe Des Arcades in high season, and were at the coffee and limoncello phase of the meal when I suddenly smelt burning. An attempt was made from over my shoulder to set fire to my moustache, which may have succeeded had it not been waxed. This Public School boy prank caused vast amusement to all those present but I know jealousy when I see it.

We had spent much of the evening talking about me and my latest book The Valbonne Monologues and this column and I think he just snapped. However, with the bit between his teeth or, more accurately, the lighter in his hand, he proceeded to steal a copy of said tome from That Nice Lady Decorators handbag and attempt, Nazi like, to set fire to it as my picture today shows. I know the book is hot stuff, some might even say a “firey” tale but this is going too far.

One for crimewatch?

So clear evidence of a crime, which a less charitable chap than myself, would be putting in front of the judiciary and asking for a very long sentence (something for which this column is often renowned but with a very different meaning). However, he is a valued Currencies Direct client and, as such, I shall overlook this literary barbarism on this occasion, as long as the 10 euros, the cost of the book, is forthcoming shortly.

The Wingco commented that had my name been St John rather than Chris, I could use the epithet singeing from now on, which although quite amusing, was a little too close to the truth. Also a witness to this event was Dancing Greg Harris from Côte D’Azur Villa Rentals , who was the other half of the tennis partnership that had slipped to defeat earlier in the evening. Even his gazelle like antics at the net were insufficient, but he was more dwelling on a much more serious loss as a result of the demise this week of fellow rental company French Entree, without paying some of the villa owners on whose behalf they had received rentals, but equally buoyed by the future opportunities represented by the loss of a major competitor.

Some rock and roll this evening over in Tourette’s Sur Loup where we are invited to witness the first performance of a band called Apes And Their Sister, featuring Mougins School drum guru Jaren. Lamb.  I think bluebell the camper will be pressed into service. Did you notice that I did not make a joke about Tourette’s? …yet

Chris France

@Valbonne_News
@Valbonne_News