Bicycle Repair Man fails

Aficionados of the Monty Python series of TV programmes will recognise the central part of my activities yesterday. Bicycle Repair Man was my lot as, with a slight stomach strain after tennis on Monday evening, I decided to resort to taking my exercise on my French bike. You can tell it is French because it drives on the right (something that could become a political reality for this semi communist state if Madame Le Pen and her National Front Party become the biggest French grouping in the European Parliament elections shortly, as seem likely). Having tried to get both to work properly (another general issue in France) eventually I gave up after two trips to Decathlon for repairs.

You see my problem is that I am more of a thinker (and writer?) than a doer. A diplomat and administrator who does not usually get his hands dirty, and it is usually the case that when it comes to doing anything practical, then failure is writ large in my life. I managed to change both wheels and reattach the brakes, which to me represents something of a breakthrough, but the chain on both bikes kept slipping so it is back down to the bike shop at some stage, so that French Bicycle Repair Man can have a go. I was going to make some crass comment about needs a cha(i)nge but in the end decided to back peddle and give my tyred readership a brake.

Bicycle Repair Man gets it wrong

So, apart from a lot more gardening, and a load of logging, there was no serious exercise for me yesterday, which is probably as well as it was the second 5:2 diet day on the trot and a little too much exertion could have seen me disappear up my own anus. I am not saying I am thin, but you could turn my sideways and mark be absent.

I spent my time properly though, explaining the benefits of opening an account with Currencies Direct to an old friend who is about to buy a house in France, and then organising tennis lunch on Friday with the Master Mariner Mundell and others. The Wingco has finally found gainful employment to which to he will be late arriving, so he will be unable to be late for this gathering. It will cause a fine of course. A mere job should never get in the way of a boys lunch, and this has been noted in the minutes. 7 minutes that is, the period of time known as a Wingco, which is the minimum time he is late for anything.

Before that, this evening, there is a gathering at the new Chinese Restaurant in Valbonne. It is directly opposite the Kasmir,  the Indian in the village, so all we need now is a Thai establishment for the full house. To my knowledge there are at least 6 of us lined up so I shall report back once I have been inside. Frankly, after the last two days of denial, I probably won’t care if it is even cooked, so hungry will I be by the time we get there.

The only good thing about the diet is that I had planned to have my annual blood tests to check how advanced are all the degenerative diseases that befall a man in his 7th decade, and what better time than after what is for me an extended period of clean living. One is required to fast for 12 hours before giving up that armful of blood, which I had planned to doing this morning, only to find out just now that today is a French bank holiday. It may be years before I have a better two-day lead up to a blood test. Trust the French to get my blood up.

Chris France
@Valbonne_News