Lord Tebbit in Plascassier?

When the lovely Maryse was casting about for the name of someone she wanted to invite to dinner, she first came up with “Spanky” and immediately we all knew who she meant. So Peachy Butterfield was an invitee for dinner last evening with her and Currencies Direct client The Wingco. It was a slightly melancholic affair to start with as both myself and That Nice Lady Decorator were upset at the demise of the favoured family pet, Max, who had succumbed to a combination of a bad heart, Leishmanoise disease, water in the lungs, a hacking cough and ulcers. He was also deaf, so it was in fact a merciful release.

In deference to the passing of a wonderful family companion, and the realisation that the sole mantle of family pet has to passed to that other dog, Banjo, the time for whom many of you will know I don’t possess, I waxed my moustache in a downwards direction rather than upwards as a mark of respect. It was also apt in that the final days of our French summer adventure are coming to an end that I should take this action, as a gesture of sorrow.

Forced into some final gardening before the off, I was more than ready for dinner and with man mountain Peachy coming I knew I would have to get there early to get my fair share. Then I had a brain wave. Let’s pick him up on the way! That way he cannot get there any earlier. Of course that raised the spectre of a sharpener on the way, and exposure to some pretty doubtful card Bordeaux, but needs must when the devil drives.

The lovely calming influence of his beautiful willowy wife, Suzanne, was nowhere to be seen, she having jetted off to England for the weekend to get away from him, and so he was in top form with no hand brake in sight.

Peachy Butterfield admires a splendid example of road kill

More used to eating road kill, pigeons and whippets, especially road kill, he was very impressed with the animal skin in today’s picture. Doubtless that would have provided a few meals in the Butterfield household.

He was full of his usual politically incorrect statements. I think the most memorable of which, so memorable that I had to make a note of it, was that “When you get a northern girl in a harness, you can get a load of work done”. That Nice Lady Decorator, who spent some time up north when she was younger, (that should imply nothing about her being older now) was suitably unimpressed. “And remember to get her to keep her back straight” he ploughed on in his lonely furrow.

Luckily he managed to divert the conversation with a claim that he had spotted Lord Tebbit, Tory scion of the Margaret Thatcher era, puffing on his pipe on the seats at the front of the Auberge St Donat last Tuesday. He also claimed to be leaving a business luncheon, so we were already bordering the realms of fantasy, but he stuck to his claim and has witnesses in the shape of Dancing Greg Harris from Côte d’Azur Villa Rentals who apparently was also present. So there we have it, confirmation that the Auberge is now on the political eating map. How soon before we see ex President Sarkozy enjoying a budget meal?

An “eat up the freezer” lunch today may attract a few locusts, some featuring regularly in this column, picking over the remnants of a good summer, but first the serious car packing must take place. If it does not then there will be trouble ahead.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News