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Jolly boating weather

September 25, 2013

Everything was going fine until, after going through the rigmarole of getting ready to board, we were held on the air bridge of the Easyjet plane from Nice to Naples for 15 minutes. “No good can come of it, this plane is not taking off tonight”, I said. I like to be a beacon of hope when all around is doom and gloom. When we were herded back to the departure lounge it looked worse. There was apparently a problem with the plane and that Nice Lady Decorator, who gets very restive when restricted, opened a door and headed out back to the airport, to the consternation of the airport staff, who promptly confiscated our boarding passes and told us to stay close by.

Experience says that when you have a problem like this, very often you hang about for a couple of hours and then the flight is cancelled, or at the very least there is a three hour delay before you get away. It seems that we were only allowed out under the erroneous impression that she was pregnant, which, despite her claimed age of 37, would have probably made medical history if that was the case. What was initially surprising was that Roly Bufton, with whom we were travelling, was allowed to accompany her, presumably on the basis that he looked pregnant as well. Of course, my magnificent physique could not possibly be mistaken for one that had been impregnated, so I was challenged, but was allowed to escape as well on the basis that I was her husband. Perhaps they thought Roly was her dad? Anyway, with an expected long-term delay, I headed to the bar to secure some beers to help keep the wolf from the door, and spirits high. Literally the moment I arrived back from the bar, some 300 yards away, reboarding commenced. Some of us, and by that I mean That Nice Lady Decorator, had glugged her nasty plastic glass of beer but Roly and I held firm and managed to board the plane with beers in hand. I love Easyjet.

Earlier, we had made our way into Cannes for lunch on the beach at Rado Plage. This was the venue for the signing away of my record company rights to an old pal who should know better, but still retains his enthusiasm for a record business that I loved but no longer exists in the form I enjoyed. I shall miss the control but not the grief, and have maintained an interest should anything exciting happen with someone else at the helm.

Naples from the port

Naples from the port

Talking about the helm, from which I took this picture, (ok, I am not nautical, unless that involves noughts and crosses, so I may not have the correct terminology here) arriving late into Naples, we headed for Roly and Poly’s boat Sea Breezes, which will be our home for the next few days. On the flight we discussed what we should do. Sorrento? Naples? Herculaneum? Vesuvius? Pompeii? Amalfi coast? and decided that we should do them all. But first there was the matter of a late dinner to be dealt with. Italian food is not amongst my favourites but we had a fine meal, my seafood risotto being very good, and I think I chose more wisely that That Nice Lady Decorator who, having chosen the tasting selection menu, was presented with a stream of bigger and bigger dishes, almost all of which are now safely stowed aboard Sea Breezes in doggy bags and which we shall no doubt continue to enjoy through today.

So where shall we go first? Well, to the supermarket as it seems that Loud Mouth Largy has been a guest over the last few days and there is not a spirit left aboard. Nor is there much wine, beer, food or, well anything. I also think that it was a timely disaster that he should lose his wallet also early in the trip, and feel certain that he will shortly be honouring his debts to all and sundry. Yes, even sundry had to take a hit.

So off into the Mediterranean sunset in the next few days, in search of an idyllic life style which must surely involve the services of Currencies Direct? As always, I live in hope.

Chris France

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