The No Parsley Lunch awaits

I managed to plead pressure of work or I would have been dragged metaphorically screaming to the hideous spectre of Christmas shopping in Chichester. It is not that I dislike Chi, as the locals call it, but I detest shopping of any type, especially of the Christmas variety. I would prefer even the dull and tedious job of preparing royalty statements, which is in fact the job I got.

Bored by this task very quickly, my mind wandered first towards the wonderful Currencies Direct exchange rates which have been close to £1 = 1.20 euros (find out how to open an account with Currencies Direct) and then to today’s No Parsley Lunch at Butlers in Arundel. Being a diet day yesterday, it was perhaps inevitable that my mind would focus on food so I should not have been surprised. I might even have been tempted to munch on a bit of parsley last evening, that is an indication of how hungry I was. I have seen a bit of support for parsley in the comments section, but only from a herb loving Reverend, but it is his job to love all living things. The problem here is that the parsley, when it makes its unwelcome entrance aboard your plate, is already dead. There is a joke here about the dearly deparslied, but I dare not make it here.

There will apparently by 9 of us at this lunch today at Butlers and I shall be proposing that a No Garnish Lunch should follow this ground breaking experimental statement in garnish avoidance. It is rewarding to think there are at least 8 other people in the world that share my dislike. Parsley, tomatoes, oysters and garnish. There should be a law against them all. I am looking forward to meeting my fellow culinary travellers.

Amongst them are pub landlords Charlie Pistorius Malcolmson and Fearless Feckless Fricker, but the others will be welcome new acquaintances I hope. It is the time of year for the dreaded Christmas party, and I guess this could have the same potential, where you inevitably end up snogging someone inappropriately and I am looking forward to it. In the old days it was sometimes the case that it would get out of hand to the extent that one could wake up the next morning with a wolf arm ( a girl you do not recognise and whom is so ugly you would rather chew your own arm off that wake her up) but luckily I am older and wiser now. Also, I am not certain That Nice Lady Decorator would approve.

The mist rising on a winters day in Sussex

Before lunch I shall be on my usual march around the hills of Sussex, as per my picture today, seeing if I can get to a stone (14 pounds for you non decimal types) in weight loss since starting that diet when I arrived back from France in October, following a long summer fattening up under the Mediterranean sun. I have been telling those bathroom scales that I have bought them something nice for Xmas and am hoping they will believe me. Clearly they will want to reciprocate.

We are on our travels this weekend again. Waltham St Lawrence in Berkshire is the scene for a gathering of a load of ex ex-pats from the south of France. It involves a hotel, a pilot, a Right Honourable, a slim and beautiful girl who likes to do naked hand stands, but only after a few drinks, a comedian and Panto star, a painter and a Lady Decorator. In other words a microcosm of the varied and wonderful characters I have met in the flesh pots of Provence over the years of living down there. Should be fun and provide some decent copy for this missive…

Chris France
@Valbonne_News