See Uranus on your phone!

That Nice Lady Decorator has a new app on her phone. It is called Night Sky and it triangulates your position by satellite and shows you what stars and planets are in vision. Of course normally in England it would be entirely useless as it is nearly always cloudy, so although the screen might show you where to look you never see anything.

Yesterday however was a departure. A beautiful crisp clear sunny day greeted us we awoke in the enormous mansion of Nigel Medina Palms Rowley and we enjoyed a fabulous walk along the Iron Age ridge above his house, where there is the most important discovery of the age. Lime kilns, the position of Roman villas laid out on the top of an escarpment and splendid views on a brilliant day, delayed our return to Arundel until afternoon, after which, you will be unsurprised to learn, we took lunch.

It was in the way back from lunch with dusk approaching, when that Nice Lady Decorator noticed a light in the sky and, it remaining clear, she was able to identify it. “I can see Uranus” she said, and I must say I fidgeted a little and made a mental note to examine my trousers when we got home.

Lunch was taken at The Bridge at Amberley, and was wonderful, and not only because I was not paying. A Greek chef lends an interesting slant as he weaves Greek culinary techniques amongst into the more traditional Sunday roast, and we both went for the Greek lamb, which, with roast potatoes rather than the  suggested rice, was a triumph. Before that, we had stopped at The rather unprepossessing George at Eartham and, underline this, bought a pint that I could not finish. Goodwood Sussex Ale is now at the very bottom of my real ale list, and I am certain that it was the cause of a gastric malaise that overtook me in the early evening. Frankly, it was either off or dreadful or both.

some New Forest horses from last week.

Now I am not ill very often, but when I am it is catastrophic. With my hearty constitution, I hardly notice ailments in normal circumstances, indeed I have probably had flu recently and not noticed it. Yesterday was one of the catastrophic days. The application of a paracetamol and a cup of tea from the deeply unsympathetic Decorating operative was like setting off to climb Everest with some stout boots and a walking stick. No good at all. I needed a stomach pump and morphine. Indeed, for a time I was concerned that I would be unable to compile this daily column, full of wit, repartee and diarrhoea, but in a testament to that indomitable bulldog spirit for which I am not renowned, have rallied at the last moment, so the promotion of the services of Currencies Direct will continue for another day, as it has unbroken for the last 44 months.

What would you do if with your life partner was clearly close to death,  and you received a text message invitation from the flame haired beauty Carolyn, to go to the Eagle for a glass of wine? Admittedly, I think I can remember through the haze of hallucinations, sweat and, well, other things, her asking me if I would like to accompany her, but there being no mobile intensive care facility available, I declined. She did not appear to understand the hint that her duty was at home, ministering to my every need. She went to the Eagle.

Being empty, after the various evacuations last night, I have applied for a postponement of the scheduled 5:2 diet day today, but expect the same unsympathetic response as that I received on my death-bed.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News