Owl missing in Valbonne?

With no formal arrangements in place for that most sacred of social occasions, Sunday lunch, we were delighted to receive an invitation to meet for just that in Valbonne Square. That the invitation emanated from local Irishman John “800 hundred years of repression” O Sullivan was not that welcome, until I focused on the fact that there was a decent chance he would be accompanied by that most wonderfully endowed wife of his, the statuesque Jude. There was always the chance he had left her at home, but that was as likely as Jude announcing that she would Never again attend one of “Paddy The Wanker Warwick’s” (as Peachy Butterfield refers to him) boot camps of which she is an avid fan. It is a well-known fact, covered in some detail in this column for some years, that she has a soft spot for Baileys, that disgustingly sweet glutinous liquid that masquerades as an after dinner drink. I say after dinner, but for Jude, there is no set time or occasion to partake. Anyway, I did remark that the bad news is that if Jude comes, then so does Johnny. Make of that what you will.

Anyway, with no other option seemingly available, I steeled myself for the usual load of Irish republican claptrap, loaded up my travelling cigar wallet (it being a racing certainty that he would have “forgotten” to go the tabac to buy his own, – he did -) and headed for lunch at Cafe Des Arcades, back in favour now that the hoards of holiday makers have thankfully left the area for the summer, relieving the pressure on their kitchen. On the way I spotted this cat In a boat in a side street in Valbonne. Cab owl be far away? and where is the pea green paint?

Where is the owl?

It was actually a very good and extended lunch. Perhaps we should not have shared 3 bottles of a cheeky little Provençal red (the girls were drinking white) but the arguments about republicanism and the domination, or even superiority of the English, depending upon your view-point, were so enjoyable that time stood still. I only wish the bar bill had done the same.

At one stage, Jude claimed that she was not a big drinker and that she would be on her knees after 3 drinks, and had the temerity to blush when I said that’s just how I like her. This caused Johnny to remark that this was an accidental offside,

Johnny also reminded me of a story that the Currencies Direct client The Wingco had once told against himself. In his youth he had been in Thailand for a period of time, backpacking. He was amongst a group of Thais one evening and one particular beauty took his eye, and seemed very interested in him, so being young free and single he decided to make a move. His Thai friend kept saying “she like you”, “she like you” and the Wingco said he knew. Later on when things had developed to the extent that a bedroom was located, he found that she, or rather he, was indeed very like him. It was not discussed what happened thereafter.

Obviously after such a long and invigorating lunch, a siesta was required, but the whole idea is that you have a short rest and then awaken and are back in the room. I was awoken by Slash and Burn Thornton Allan who was hammering on the front door and demanding a glass of wine in the pav, That Nice Lady Decorator awoke briefly, made a couple of barely comprehensible remarks and then retired for the evening, not to be seen again until this morning . A poor show I say.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News