Local bum causes a stir

There is a weird sub culture going on in the comments section of this column. Day after day some very talented people are spending time writing limericks and publishing them to ensure an enormous readership for their ditties. Do they not have jobs? Well, I know that in the case of the Reverend Jeff, he has being avoiding real work for over 40 years, but the rest of you, what is your excuse? I don’t even like poetry, so, apart from the obvious quality of the writing and the enormous readership, what can be the motive? I am prepared to wager that someone with limericise about this tomorrow.

My picture today was taken at one of the worlds greatest sites. This however is a different kind of sight, a sight for sore eyes. It was overlooking Herculaneum in Italy a few weeks ago, and I swear I heard her say something about “does my bum look big in this?” It certainly did dear, in fact that bum would look big in anything. I am myself a lover of curves, but this is a bit of a curve ball, as they probably never say in the States.

An old relic paints an old relic

Clearing the house, as we are at present ready for the expedition north back to England, one finds many things one has lost during the summer. Sometimes you may not want to find things and, yesterday for example, it was the discovery as to where that half packet of chocolate truffles had gone that I lost last year. I do not recall putting them in the drawer of my desk, and at first I did not recognise the concealed mess into which they had turned after a hot summer, but at least it was a mystery solved. I did find some things I wanted as well, such as some rather nice Currencies Direct literature and mouse mats, for those of you who have well trained mice.

So yes, cleaning and hoovering have been ongoing and will continue so to be for the rest of the week, which is why I have to go to the UK tomorrow. I have told That Nice Lady Decorator that I am mortified that I could not stay and help, but my presence is required for far more intellectually stimulating purpose, namely the march forward of the international music industry. I tried to plead “preparation time” yesterday afternoon and had got away with it until she came into the lounge unexpectedly as I was watching TV. She did not believe my protestation that it was part of my research. Perhaps it would have been more convincing if I had been tuned into a music channel rather than watching cricket.

So an early night before a ridiculously early start this morning, which is why this column posted so early, and by the time most of you are reading this, I shall be in Seat 1A on the Easyjet Dreamstealer to Gatwick. I can almost taste that first pint of London Pride that I have promised myself for being a good boy, not drinking too much the night before, and getting up whilst it is still dark. I think I deserve a medal.

It is a short trip, I shall be back in the bosom of Valbonne by tomorrow night, all things being equal, ready for a final jaunt on to the tennis courts at the Vignale on Friday morning. There has been some comment inferring that the reporting of last weeks tennis match may have been a little partisan, but nothing could be further from the truth. In fact the reporting was very partisan and always will be while I am in charge. It is what my readers expect. If you want fair and balanced, find a blonde women tight rope walker.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News