4 years of blogging!

4 years today, the stirrings of a literary explosion, in my own mind, took place when I first put pen to paper (it was so long ago, writing in this way was still acceptable). This daily column, which has excited, inspired and probably bored as many people as the 138,000 hits it has received since its inception, came to life after a meeting with Currencies Direct where I was introduced to joys of blogging. I had asked what the word stood for and was told it was an abbreviation of the words web log. And so began this column, intended to collect up people being abused by their banks when moving foreign currency.

More recently, for some reason I cannot fathom, it has become the home of a nest of limericists who daily exhibit their rhymes based on the daily content in the comments section of this column. It has developed from a news source for Valbonne in France, where I have a house, and then later took in the delights of Arundel when I was forced to move from France due to a ridiculous tax situation two years ago.

An aged author celebrates another milestone, or is it millstone?

Not that I am complaining too much.  If one has to spend a part of one’s year anywhere in the UK, my first choice would be Arundel. I guess having a house which is next door to a decent pub does set it up nicely, and having 6 pubs in the village and around a dozen restaurants helps, but the architecture and mainly the people are what makes it special. It seems that if one is born and bred in Arundel, one is entitled to call themselves a mullet. I don’t know why but it was this of which I was reminded as we encountered Nearly Hairless Nick outside washing his new BMW (for the third time this week; he must be trying to wash the paint off).

Nearest Hairless had invited us to join him at the Goodwood Members Meeting this coming Saturday and we had thought it a generous gesture after all the abuse he gets in this column, but were happy to go along to see what it was all about, mainly because it was not going to cost anything and he had volunteered to drive. He was under the impression that guests were gratis, but was disavowed of this when talking to the box office to ensure his invitees were on the guest list. Apparently we could be, but it would have required £75 per head to become guests, so we politely declined, which he was generous enough to swallow without complaint (but not generous enough to swallow the cost) saying we would see him on Mothers Day where he has secured us a table at the George at Burpham, where he offers some small service. He told me that and had discussed with the chef the limited menu remarked upon in this column, and which is something which he now assured me has been addressed. The food has always been consistently good, and if the menu can match it, then it could become a jewel in the Sussex culinary crown.

He described Mothers Day as “a pain in the butt”, and when I took him to task as the mother of my children was present, when rebuked said “well it is for me”. I mention this because I feel it might offer some useful food for thought for the limericists I mentioned earlier. One does have to listen to ones customers, however irksome that may be. I think I see where Nearly Hairless is coming from.

Sussex Seniors nets at lunchtime today, where the inner sanctum of the county’s senior cricketers spend some hours in the net at the Arundel Castle cricket school and where the bowling machine will be ramped up to 65 miles per hour, will give my dodgy ankle another workout before I shall join them in the White Hart where I shall be giving the Harvey’s Bitter a similar fulsome testing.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News