Peaking too early?

I have used the phrase “peeked too early” in a different context and for which should have been cautioned. In fact that could have been a sub-title to that not very famous album by John Otway entitled Premature Adulation. Yesterday however, I definitely peaked too early.

The trouble is that when you have a bunch of thirsty ex pats arrive from the sunshine of the south of France, ready for a party weekend, they want to start partying as soon as they arrive, even though the celebration dinner occurs tonight. Thus by yesterday lunchtime I found myself in the Swan with a pint of London Pride and a plate of fish and chips.

My advice that the raiding party should try one of the Italian restaurants such as Osteria or Papadelle for lunch was ignored as they all liked the very English menu at the Swan. I had forgotten how much they would all crave a dose of plain English food, like bubble and squeak or fish and chips, which are unavailable in the Valbonne area, although fish is available in France, it would not usually arrive at the table clad in high calorie, waist expanding batter. Anyway, as I expected, we joined them for lunch and managed to avoid a complete blow out until later in the evening.

Where I may be living after the cost of this weekend

Yes, I managed a short siesta whilst dreaming as usual of the benefits of opening an account with Currencies Direct, before the south of France brigade, joined by English Treasure John Otway, and my two wonderful gay pals, Ziggy and Morten, or Bang and Olafsun as one of my friends once described them, descended upon our house for pre dinner drinks. They had all agreed that the idea of going to a pub and having a takeaway delivered to eat in situ was an intriguing idea, and so it came to pass. The Kings Arms in Arundel has, uniquely in my experience, adopted such a policy and will even supply plates, knives and forks and even napkins if you have your takeaway delivered to the pub. However, can you imagine the chaos of trying to order a curry for 15  people (the gorgeous Rachel “Lady In Waiting”  and John “Chuckle Brothers” Surtees having arrived later)? Someone was always going to be unlucky and it was That Nice Lady Decorator who got the job of collating the requests and formulating the order. Can you then imagine the logistics of placing some 30 dishes on the bar ready for consumption by the marauding hoard in a busy pub late on a Friday evening? I can now that I have seen it. Anyway, it all seemed to pass off very well, but inevitably, some stragglers ended up at our house until well after midnight. I took to my bed at about 1am. Today is supposed to be the big day, not yesterday.

So tonight, with the rest of the party arriving at different times, I shall endeavour to remain focused on the evening, whilst all around me start partying much earlier. I have arranged to lead a walk at 10am this morning, which seemed such a good idea in the pub last night, so unless I can use the excuse of dreadful weather, which is a decent bet, I will be slogging around the Duke of Norfolk estate this morning with an overhung rabble.

I will be needing my sensible hat, never much in evidence, to escape the clutches of the party people if I am to make it through this evening without collapsing in a heap.

Chris France