Flame thrower triumph

It is always a trade-off. I like to watch The Ashes cricket between England and Australia almost as much as That Nice Lady Decorator hates ironing. I have even bought her an up to date state of the art iron. So an uneasy compromise has been reached whereby I do the ironing whilst watching the test match. There is always another aspect to my watching cricket.

During the matches there always seems to be a vastly increased number of social occasions under consideration which all seem to interfere with my watching the game. A cynic might come to the conclusion that anything is better than me being allowed to lounge on the sofa and watch my favourite sport. I am a cynic, and I don’t mean a young swan.

So we went to the Kim Defforge book launch at The English Book Centre in Valbonne, where I took todays picture, last evening but with the promised wine taking a long time to appear and being a touch on the warm side when it did, we soon headed off to Peachy Butterfield’s egg and chip night which was a triumph. A magnum of a 2009 St Estephe and another of a Bordeaux gave me a rosy glow, a little like Peachy after his cooking.

A cat asleep in front of a quintessentially Provencal front door

The eggs were fried to perfection and enough chips survived the Peachy cooking process to feed the gathering. I am not certain exactly what that process had been, but by the amount of carbon in evidence I would guess it involved a flame thrower and a fire extinguisher, in that order. The lovely Suzanne has recently become an estate agent, forcing house husband Peachy into a huge learning curve involving kitchen duties and the washing machine, but has not extended as far as ironing, yet. I think one thing at a time is the correct approach. It will take time for him to come to terms with these new disciplines but I think he will not get there in the end. He had also wisely provided a starter in the form of Parma ham and melon and some pate, but you will have noticed, as did I, that neither needs any cooking and so even he could not incinerate these.

Suzanne was talking about one of the properties in her remit, a big property on a small plot, which I mentioned made me think of her husband right at that moment; a bit like the giant Peachy sitting on a small chair. It was not a late night as we have to prepare for today.

So this morning we are in for a real treat. What could be more splendid that being taken out on a yacht, owned by Roly and Poly Bufton, floating around the coast for lunch at the African Queen at Beaulieu Sur Mer and then floating back to Antibes for a restorative pint of Guinness in Antibes? I would say very little. Even the possible attendance of fellow guest, Loudmouth Largy, and the fact that I will be unable to watch the cricket is not enough to dampen my enthusiasm. This will all take place accompanied by more than several glasses of fizz and a few flagons of rosé. I shall have no guilt about neglecting my duties with Currencies Direct as it is a Saturday , and with three new clients this week, my missionary zeal to rescue people from the clutches of their banks when dealing in foreign exchange has been sated for now.

Then on Sunday there will be the temptation to do a little Aristo Bashing with the almost regal Anthony “Dock Of The” Bay at a significant birthday bash for the rather too lovely Amanda, the gorgeous wife of this impossible old smoothie. I have been told not to bring red wine as it may stain the deck around the pool, so those of you struggling along in dear old England must realise that sometimes even the idle rich need to make sacrifices.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News