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Gentle Aristo bashing

August 12, 2013

It was a very genteel occasion, the birthday celebration of Amanda Bay, the lovely wife of Anthony “Dock Of The” Bay in the hot sunshine at a sumptuous villa with great views over Castelleras. A small gathering of the highest quality still managed to include man mountain Peachy Butterfield, so high brow in fact that I sold a further two copies of my book and could have sold more had I had the stock to hand. It is seldom the case that there is such an intellectually inspiring gathering that almost everyone in attendance was sufficiently worldly wise they could have been or already were a client of Currencies Direct.

Anthony was the culinary star with an excellent lamb dish garnished with a jus (Peachy called it gravy) which was delicious but seemed to have been made from the bones of a small pigeon. I had been sworn to avoid Aristo bashing but I am afraid I may have slightly blotted my copybook. I was tired and emotional after a good lunch and some rather nice Chateau de Berne rose, and think that had I managed my intended siesta, I may have remembered my promise not to engage in any working class diatribes. One of these was to make some mention of servants to the aristocracy when The Wingco, thirsty from some swimming, demanded that one of the servants pour more wine into his mouth whilst still the pool, as my picture today captures.

Talking of books, which I wasn’t, I hear that Woody Allen and his wife were in the English Book Centre in Valbonne for 20 minutes yesterday. It seems he is making a film in Monaco and staying in Mougins. I do hope he purchased a copy of my book from one of the only two outlets that I have seemed worthy to hold stock. The Valbonne Monolgues, directed by Woody Allen, now that sounds good.

When we came to leave in the early evening it was suggested by some that there was a massive exodus, but I was able to reassure the man mountain that this was not directed at him personally.

Arriving back at the equally impressive villa owned by Roly and Poly Bufton where Peachy and the wonderful Suzanne are staying, talk turned to an argument about the right of the local council to build a massive reservoir in the property, (not a fact that the notaire had deigned to mention when they bought it) precluding them from doing the development they had intended. Peachy rather unkindly describes it as their “water feature”. He then drummed up an excellent tasting chilli which was perfect but one always wonders with him what comprises the constituent parts. I have seen rabbit droppings locally, but surely, even he would not… I decided to close my mind to the possibilities and tucked in hungrily.

Tonight, the MOGS (the Moustachiod Old Gits which comprise myself and the Wingco) have been challenged to a doubles tennis match by Dancing Greg Harris from Côte d’ Azur Villa Rentals and a visiting friend. I do not expect the tennis to be of a high standard as I hear his friend serves underarm. I suspect that if that is the case then some moustaches will be bristling unless Greg does the decent thing and buys dinner afterwards.

Until then, I shall be glued to the TV to watch a fascinating Ashes test Match (probably whilst doing the ironing – the trade off with That Nice Cricket Hating Person – actually she does not hate cricket, she just hates me watching it). I expect to be in contact with some of my Australian friends later in the day to discuss their chances as long as things go well for England. If they do not then I will not.

Chris France

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