Pretty in pink

What is going on with the weather in the UK? We must have had three storms a week since mid December, and there seems to be no end in sight with the same pattern continuing for the next fortnight at least.

I suppose there is a parallel in my life. Like I yearn for some sunshine and calmness, I yearn for a few days when I am not scheduled to drink and party. I mean we went a funeral yesterday and that turned into a party (it is what she would have wanted). You might be excused for thinking that a funeral is a sombre occasionally, as indeed it was, but the furious dedication to consume alcohol exhibited by those attending the wake had to be seen to be believed. I joined in for a couple of pints of Doom Bar, but as I was driving, saved myself for later at the launch JAK, the new restaurant at The White Hart in Arundel. I don’t suppose I am alone in hating funerals, but when I go, apart from getting everyone not to wear black, I do not want tears, unless they are tears of joy at my departure.

The lovely saintly Anne King, to whom we were saying good-bye at the Worthing Crematorium, had also asked for no one to wear black, but to wear something pink instead. I had dug out a light grey silk suit which I had hand-made in Hong Kong about 20 years ago, found a pink shirt, a pink tie and some pink reading glasses, which, together with my real crocodile (effect) shoes, made me the epitome of sartorial elegance, or so I thought. There was no time to change before going to the pub so I went as I was.

The beach at Clymping yesterday between storms

I think it was the beautiful flame haired siren Carolyn who was the first to laugh, but she was by no means alone. I will be having words with Nearly Hairless Nick. Some people just do not see class when it is right in front of them. I am sticking to my guns here, I know I looked good, especially as my wonderful waxed Dali like moustache was in peak condition and set off what I was wearing. I did not much care for the chorus of “Go compare”, a reference I think to a popular TV advert in the UK which features a large male opera singer with an unfeasibly large moustache, although I was touched by a charming French lady at the funeral who told me she reminded her of Hercule Poirot.

Anyway, I digress. I began by alluding to my desire for good weather and a few days off the social bandwagon. There appears to be no chance of the weather improving but I thought I saw a window of opportunity to have a few quiet days starting today, but now it appears we are committed to getting hog-whimperingly drunk tonight with Barry King and sons, who have just lost a wife and mother respectively. Don’t get me wrong, I am now looking forward to it, but a day off in between would have been good. What am I saying? I must be getting old.

Before that I need something to restore my equilibrium and that is normally done by diligent concentration on my work promoting the services of Currencies Direct, and attending to my now slightly smaller music business empire. Today will be no different. The good news is that the 5:2 diet day scheduled for today has been postponed. What the hell? There are 7 days in a week. I am sure That Nice Lady Decorator will find another one that fits.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News