Colin the pirate; a birthday

He wanted a “pissy” lunch for his birthday, and that is exactly what he got. One eyed Colin The Pirate, who has already had far too many birthdays for comfort, seemed to want to bring on another heart attack to add to his collection at a splendid lunch at Pappardelle in Arundel yesterday. Before the starter had arrived, I noticed that the white wine, which he had ordered, exclusively for himself it seems, the sultry goddess Sandra and That Nice Lady Decorator electing to partake of Prosecco, was unaccountably empty, whilst the Barolo in front of me had several more wonderful glasses to go before the decision to order another became an imperative.

We had earlier, at pre lunch drinks, presented him with some pieces of eight, as befits a pirate, in the form of Christmas chocolate money, and with which he was more delighted than the very fine bottle of Chateau Musar I had retrieved from my wine cellar. Perhaps I should remind regular readers of the reason for his epithet in this column. His habitual use of an eye patch is la gift for a blog writer such as myself, and, as he quite rightly points out, there is only one eye in Colin. It is not something to which I can turn a blind eye.

Basically, it is always wet in England

I had earlier put my business empire, including the promotion of the services of Currencies Direct, to bed for the weekend, after a brisk stroll (try 4 miles at a startling walking pace) in the full knowledge that nothing of great import commercially was likely to follow that lunch, and I have to say that it was an enlightened decision. Let me give you some scale to the event. Perhaps it was a bit cheeky, after 4 bottles of wine, for the chaps to don coats and brave the rain in a quick dash across to road to Pallants, the excellent delicatessen, in search of a decent Sauterne, lacking on their menu, to accompany desert, and the over exuberant purchase of three half bottles will no doubt be recalled eventually by the piratical one, when he awakes with a hangover the size and scope of Hiroshima, probably some time later today. Then there was the vintage port, which I certainly recall, but doubt that he will. In any event it seemed a perfectly reasonable decision to adjourn afterwards across the road to the pirates lair, and listen to German marching bands on his ancient wind up gramophone, a lovely piece of equipment playing appallingly distorted “music” from a by gone age. His impromptu conducting of the orchestra was a particular highlight before his crashing and burning in spectacular style. I think it was as the gramophone slowed down, that he slowed as well, and when mercifully (for non fans of German military marching bands), it came to a complete stop, so did he.

We had invited him to see local sensation, Hakuna Pesa, who were appearing last night at the Red Lion, but were unsurprised to note his absence. That Nice Lady Decorator and I however are made of sterner stuff. After a rather longer than normal siesta, we regathered and headed for the pub where the future of modern music were performing. Talent and organisation are not always contented bed fellows, and so it is with this group. If I can find a way of harnessing their undoubted abilities I shall die a rich man, however, have you ever attempted to Sellotape smoke? This is work in progress for me, but progress assumes moving forward and as far as their recording sessions for which I have paid are concerned, progress is somehow not the word that springs to mind.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News