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German sausages are the wurst

August 21, 2013

In September I must venture north to Germany. However, when I eventually head up to the Fatherland for the 50th birthday celebrations of the lovely Fräulein Marika, I plan to promise that I will refrain from making any jokes about Germans or their sausages as they are the Wurst.

Meanwhile, I am today on my way back to Blighty for some cooler weather, rain and the Arundel Festival. Some of my friends will be descending upon us during the coming 6 days to enjoy said festival, the highlight of which may well be the Bathtub Challenge, which involves races up and down the Arun River in converted bath tubs by loads of people old enough to know better. I fully intend to witness this spectacle whilst sitting comfortably in the riverside champagne bar overlooking the water course. This event does not happen until Sunday, but there are loads of other attractions, and our house sits in the midst of the mayhem , as seems so often to be the case wherever we venture.

Last evening we were invited to the house of that very fine painter and equally fine filly, Cathie The Culture, and her often invisible husband “Hurry Up” Ari, who was very visible as it turns out. I was invited to see whether any of a selection of red wines gifted for his 50th birthday were still worth drinking. I think that I was able to establish that the 1985 St Emilion Grand Cru was bearable, whilst a 2003 grand Cru Classe Medoc was also not beyond redemption, and there are further bottles that might well be of great interest. This seems to me like work in progress, and I am told that my work will again progress in September when we will be invited further to explore the cellar at their fab house high up in Chateauneuf.
I did manage another sale of my book, taking the total to 137, the lucky recipient being the very unlikely named local builder Chris Chicken, who was there with his wife, presumably Mrs Chicken. Of course, true to his profession, he did not pay me on the day, but will be around first ting tomorrow, honest.

The Brague

Morning constitutional alond the Brague River

Despite That Nice Lady Decorator telling me that she was determined not to purchase any more “clutter” when at this drinks party and antiques sale event, I seem to be the proud owner of a massive old cheeseboard platter the size of a table and some new table lamps (“I couldn’t leave them”, she said) which obviously transcended any concept of clutter and are, of course, vital items required for our continuing well-being, it says here.

Last night was a last night. The Sprogs final farewell. They have fared pretty bloody well this summer at my (very considerable) expense because of my totally misguided idea that this would be the final time we would be together as a family for an extended period, and I wanted it be special and memorable. It has been exactly that; special for them and memorable for me, if only for the cost. But, just to continue the theme, we went last night to a sushi restaurant called Sajuki in Roquefort Les Pins, where they ordered the Party hopper 96 piece sushi special. If I tell you than it was about a euro a piece, I think you will be able to guess that the evening was not cheap.

Thus I am now close to being destitute and will have to find work such as in finding customers for Currencies Direct in order to earn a crust. The world of popular music, over which I have spread myself (a little like a culture according to The Wingco) seems no longer sufficiently lucrative to support by profligate family so I may also need also to seek commissions as a writer, or better still, organise a cull of Sprogs, or at least their expenses.

Chris France

3 Comments leave one →
  1. Patrick permalink
    August 21, 2013 12:40 pm

    “German sausages are the wurst”

    … but not as Bad (Harzburg) as this Blog !


  2. August 24, 2013 6:47 am

    Hey there! I’ve been following your site for time now and finally got the courage to go on and give you a shout out from Lubbock Tx! Just wished to state maintain the good task!


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