Zebra Crossing?
At first I chickened out and decided to pre post the blog on Saturday before we actually left, but when we got to the Hotel in Nairobi, hey presto, fast broadband internet!. What I had written was is in two parts; the first is how I had hoped it to pan out today and the second is more likely.
Part one. As we checked in, a lovely young beautiful BA stewardess said “Ahh Mr and Mrs France, we have been waiting for you, you have been upgraded to First Class, care for some champagne?”. We then enjoyed the best First Class service that British Airways has to offer all the way to Nairobi.
Something of this nature did occur, but when we were already comfortably seated in economy, had given up all hope of an upgrade and I had started to plan my revenge on all the BA pilots who had failed in their clear duty, suddenly a steward arrived and said that on the captains orders we were to collect our things and follow him. The people in the row behind gave knowing looks, thinking that we had been responsible for some misdemeanour and were being escorted off the plane, but we knew what it would presage, an upgrade! But delight turned to incredulity when we were taken through Club World section into the First Class cabin. I was given seat number 1F, and that nice lady decorator 2F. Any nearer the front and we would have been in the cockpit
So I enjoyed the following; an excellent Grand Cru Classe Bordeaux from Lafitte, several glasses, followed by an Australian Mudpie desert wine that I had always wanted to try, and followed that with a XO Cognac whilst eating some divine food. That nice lady decorator found an excellent 2008 Chablis which she proceeded to drink at such a speed that the captain had to keep retrimming the aircraft as the nose kept going up as the Chablis stock was depleted. The Fairview Hotel in Nairobi was a good choice and I managed to get my first pictures of African wildlife, albeit on the walls of the hotel restaurant as it was dark by the time we arrived.
The first wildlife I have seen in Africa
Part two: the scenario I had dreamed of and Cathie The Culture wanted visited upon me; The three screaming kids, all snotty and full of cold were being given another can of full fat coca cola with added sugar and e numbers, just to ensure they were able to sustain for the whole nine-hour flight the cacophony that was already at full throttle in the waiting room. Throttle, now there is a word that I could have happily put into practical use. The first plastic toy hit me on the head as I was drinking a cup of tea. Hot tea. Tea that went all over by nice white chinos I had worn in the vague hope that one of my pilot friends had stood up and been counted and had secured us an upgrade.
Thereafter, snot laden food, mostly crisps and chocolate stuffed with all the e numbers that coca cola had missed was consumed noisily and constantly, and the youngest of the three horrors managed to drop some chocolate on to the by now almost ruined trousers. I fervently hope that all three, and their shell suited perma-tanned parents die horrible slow lingering deaths in a lion’s den in Africa.
Apart from a couple of short trips to Marrakech, a nightmare 3 days in Lagos, this is my first trip to Africa and I am looking forward to it as much as one can look forward to work, and work it was. as I said thank you to the pilot and gave them crew signed copies of my book, I managed to mention Currencies Direct, and all took my card and expressed interest. My missionary work in Africa has begun.
Chris France
Big cats or big dog?
It was a tough decision. After arriving at the faceless square grey box of a hotel called The Jury’s Inn at London’s Heathrow Airport, a recommendation from my old friend Peter Lynn, a decision had to be made. It was late afternoon; either take a late siesta, or go straight to the bar and go straight through to an early dinner and then bed?. There was never really going to be any doubt, so we headed to the bar.
It’s not that the hotel was uncomfortable, the wine undrinkable or the food inedible, it’s just the mind numbing blandness and total lack of warmth that characterise these airport hotels that gets to me, and drives me to drink. After all, what else is to be done in this situation? What possible entertainment is to be had?
So an early start today, the reason we had to stay near the airport and by the end of the day we shall be in Africa. The Reverend Jeff comments that he will be expecting a number of terrible puns in the coming two weeks along the lines of “safari so good” and I told him that he was absolutely correct. He rightly says he has known me too long, as they say, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, which is a very contrived way to lead into today’s picture of the family dog, the one we all like, Max, complete with those eyebrows.
Max with those eyebrows
A very long day awaits us as we fly to Nairobi in Kenya for the trip down to Medina Palms on Watamu Beach south of Malindi. Regular readers will know that this trip cannot possibly be construed as work as I am an agent for this beautiful development, which was this week named in the Top 10 overseas developments in Country Life. That I have to see it with my own eyes is a given and we shall be staying at the show house Alhamra owned by old pal and cricketing pal Nigel “mad as a box of frogs” Rowley and his lovely wife Leslie.
My accountants will therefore not be surprised to know that I have the most solid grounds for submitting the expenses as a bone fide business expense. Clearly it will be necessary to have secretarial support in the form of the very beautiful nice lady decorator, who has been complaining recently that I never have anything nice to say about her which is probably true but does not reflect how I actually feel about her. However, before the real work commences on Monday, there will be time for a little relaxation, and this will take the shape of a “big cat experience” at the Nairobi National Park early on Sunday morning.
We are talking the real thing here, we are hoping to see some extra-large tabby cats, and if we are lucky enough to witness them it will be, as the Reverend suggests, safari so good. Sadly work commitments will allow us just a short trip into the bush before flying down to Malindi from Nairobi on Sunday afternoon
By the time many of you read this, I expect one of my handful of BA pilot friends to have done his duty and managed to secure the upgrade to business class that I so obviously deserve. If not, then Cathie the Culture, my Australian friend and now client with Currencies Direct, who in what I thought was a slightly jealous outburst yesterday hoped that I would languish in economy beside a very overweight, loud American with bad breath with a baby screaming throughout the 12 hour flight.
Hopefully I will reveal the outcome in tomorrows column, internet access permitting.
Chris France
Balls up on the cover?
My honour is being impugned. Pat Coombs, who arrived at our house last on Tuesday evening with her husband Tony “I invented the internet” Coombs, who was there to fix my internet connection, is convinced that the photograph on the front cover of my book “Summer In The Cote d’Azur” available now for Kindle and in print from Lulu (order now to be sure of getting it for Xmas) in part exposes my manhood, the right one as you look. Indeed can there be a wrong one? My position is that it is clearly a part of my knee, but I can see that in certain lights, and with the benefit of a magnifying glass, that this relatively benign pose could be misinterpreted.
This is the only reason that I again show the possibly offending front cover, and in no way could this featuring be construed as a cheap marketing opportunity to sell more books in the run up to Christmas. That will happen a little nearer the festive season.
Left knee or left gonad? you decide
Today we leave the wonderfully sunny south of France for a night in the tender hands of a hotel near Heathrow before heading off to Nairobi on Saturday. The hotel is called the Jury’s Inn, but frankly, until we have experienced the hotel itself the Jury is out. Peter Lynn, who recommended this hotel, kindly remarks that he hopes that all traces of the recent typhus outbreak there have been eradicated, but I said I only ever drink Earl Grey tea so it should be all right.
I have five British Airways pilots as friends, all of whom are long haul specialists. It is no secret that I have acquired economy class tickets from BA for my trip to Kenya, the land of vultures and predators (so a bit similar to Valbonne then) with the near certainty that one of my five close friends would be flying the plane or at the very least will do the decent thing and secure us an upgrade. Even if there is only one upgrade to be had, I know that the nice lady decorator would insist that I received the benefit. As I write, there are 5 pilots all scurrying around doing their best to ensure that there are no slip ups. None of them will wish to risk failure in the clear duty and the subsequent punishment that would inevitably follow in this column. Messrs Warner, Coward, Macfadyen, Rogers and Allen, you have been warned.
Yesterday afternoon it was my duty to meet with the very beautiful Cathie the Culture, the cultured Australian, in Cafes Des Arcades in Valbonne to complete the necessary documentation to open her account with Currencies Direct. Part of this process requires me to secure a copy of a passport and a utility bill, quite easily obtained from home by use of a scanner, or if that was too technically challenging for La Colture that we could meet up for a drink after I get out of Africa… I suggested that she may be able to scan these and email them to me, but received a blank expression, the sort you receive when asking a 5-year-old to explain Einstein’s Theory Of Relativity. I explained how to do it but later received an email saying that she felt that was “technically challenged” and was looking forward to that drink.
So farewell until the 7th December. There will a post tomorrow before the big bird takes me south, and I hope that an internet connection will be available to allow you to follow my African adventure daily, but if connection is not available or fallible you may not get a report every day, but having now posted 642 days in succession I will not miss a day lightly.
Chris France
Morning glory
Lunch then at the Auberge St Donat after an exhausting game of tennis yesterday morning in yesterdays sparkling autumn sunshine. The result is not in doubt, the MOGs (Moustachiod Old Gits) who comprise myself and the Wingco, aka Joseph Stalin won. That’s an end to it. That the Wingco objects forcefully to being compared to Stalin is the sole reason for us to continue with the comparison, a fact that I think he is gradually coming to terms with, especially after I told him that was the case. as to the tennis, it was one set all when luncheon loomed up on us was but if you look at the scores, 4-6, 6-3, tennis aficionados will have calculated that although nominally a draw, one team secured more games than the other, and thus on the count-back principle that I am proud to have established, there is a clear winning team, and by definition, a pair of losers. That I was part of that winning team might be construed as blowing ones own trumpet, but lets face it, facts are facts.
It was this theme that was discussed at lunch, at least to start with before the others got bored. The others, and by that I mean the losing team were Greg Harris from Cote d’Azur Villa Rentals and Peter “blind lemon” Milsted. I confess that this was my suggested epithet for him in deference to his ability when drunk to ad lib the blues whilst the Wingco is playing guitar, but when I suggested this to him he said “blind drunk” would be more apt, so from now on he will be Peter “blind drunk lemon” Milsted.
I took this picture just as the sun came up this morning, bathing the valley south of Valbonne with a golden light which always looks better in real life than in photos. It’s the same with me, I always look better than any photo that has ever been taken, at least in my own mind.
The view of the early morning autumn sunshine from my house over the Val du Cubert .
Last night, Tony “I invented the internet” Coombs came round with his lovely wife Pat to try to fix my internet connection. They arrived with his own knifes and forks which indicated to me that they were expecting supper, and so a swift repast was conjured up. He had brought with him two bottles of Spitfire ale and a bottle of Pomerol. It seems that the beers were a present for me, but the wine was for him to drink. I did however sneak the smallest taster when his back was turned, and having glugged that he proceeded with admittedly a little help from yours truly, to demolish a nice 2006 St Estephe that I had liberated from my cellar . However, he will shortly become a client of Currencies Direct, it is not all bad.
Today is my last full day in France before my African odyssey starts. Nice to Heathrow tomorrow, a few pints at the Jury’s Inn on a special deal via Peter Lynn who manfully responded to my plea for help with a hotel near London’s premiere airport and was appalled that I was offered a better deal than he had ever secured. You can imagine that this did not go down too well with my Jewish friend. You would also be correct in assuming he has already taken this up with the management,
So posts may be sporadic in the coming days as I am uncertain about just how much access to the internet I shall be able to secure from Africa, but every day but I will be trying. just ask that nice lady decorator.
Chris France
A smashing time
I popped into the Queens Legs in Valbonne last night for a pint of Guinness with that nice lady decorator and when I came out I saw a gendarme issuing a parking ticket. I asked him if he could take pity on an old man but he would not listen, so as anyone would do, I questioned his parentage, then threw a few more insults whereupon he issued another ticket for bald tyres. He was just getting quite nasty when my bus arrived. You have to find your amusement in different ways as you get older.
Earlier in the day, in late afternoon I was sitting quietly in the lounge cursing the intermittent internet connection,whilst diligently completing the registration of another soon to be satisfied customer of Currencies Direct when suddenly there was an ear splitting crash and just about every glass in the house smashed to the floor.
That nice lady decorator has been working on a new glass cupboard for a couple of days,repainting it and generally repairing it to ensure it was fully functional, but it appears that the glass shelf supports were not as strong as she had hoped and the whole edifice succumbed to gravity in a spectacular fashion. It was vital that she was there in the room when it happened and that I was nowhere near the cupboard, otherwise there is no doubt in my mind about who would have received the blame. Despite the fact that I was there when it happened but on the other side of the room and could not possibly have had anything to do it, I have still caught a glimpse of that look that implies I must be in some way to blame. I could not resist taking this picture just after it happened, but please don’t tell her.
See any glasses that match?
Actually it is a godsend on one level as before this tumultuous event, we had such a mish mash of unmatched glasses in the drinks cupboard, left over from sets from which one or more had been broken, that now she will be able to go and buy some that match, or more likely I shall be delegated to go and restock our glass cabinet on her behalf.
I mentioned a dodgy internet connection, but help will soon be at hand. Tony “I invented the Internet” Coombs is due to come round this evening with his lovely wife Pat, so before he gets as much as a glass of wine I will get him to fix his infernal invention. Actually it may be more like a tumbler of wine or even a cup unless I am forced to go shopping this morning before tennis, which has been rearranged for 11am due to constant backsliding by several of our party on the scheduled 6pm kick off.
The amply endowed (sorry Lin) and smouldering Maria Louisa Santos Carr sends me a message via Facebook correcting my report about who won the ladies grouping of the REGS golf tournament at St Donat last weekend. It seems it was she, rather than former Miss England Pauline Bull as I had reported yesterday who was victorious, but when one has two such dazzling ladies in close proximity one tends to forget ones own name on occasions. I use the word smouldering as it also reminds me of Dave “Tripe” Goddard, leader of the Landlubbers, the REGS off shoot golfing group, with whom I must state she has absolutely no connection, but when I think of him smouldering it is more in terms of a smoky peat fire which most people from Yorkshire still use for heat.
Chris France
Colour non coordination
They say the darkest hour is just before dawn, (although my old mate Wild Willy Barrett used to claim the darkest hour was just before the next darkest hour) but she was not even in the picture adorning this column yesterday, and anyway I willl not have a word said against her. The photo looked fine when I posted it but when I saw it on the blog itself late morning I realised it was too dark. The wonder of modern technology was required to brighten it up so apologies if you saw the blog and that picture early yesterday…
No such claim to darkness can possibly be leveled at the subject of today’s photo, well certainly not to the photo itself anyway. Of course there is always likely to be some darkness wherever the shadow of this man mountain is cast. It is of course Matt Frost, brother of Stephen, Valbonne’s very own mortgage broker and owner of French Mortgage Xpress in the village. There seems to be some kind of sartorial cry for help going on here. I like the shirt and I like the hat, but combining them? I have no pretensions to good taste, in fact I have heard it stated that I have absolutely no taste, however, even I would not be as daring as to attempt to combine a brightly coloured Brazilian shirt with a cricket hat when invited out. It is a pity we cannot see what are on his feet, flippers perhaps?. The picture was taken at a recent luncheon at my house before the customary degeneration in standards of behaviour, and clearly before my style guru Mr Humphrey’s had expressed an opinion.
No, no and no.
It cannot now be long before I get the expected call from Marina Kulik to be a model in her popular painting classes held in Plascassier. I have been working on the bulges and wrinkles that her class apparently find very rewarding to paint and am actively looking forward to receiving the 22 Euros an hour that I shall be paid for doing nothing. Doing nothing for money is what I have often been accused of during my career in the music industry and the royalty flow that helps cover my daily expenses, but I put it down to meticulous planning and careful use of the existing mechanisms in place to pay songwriters and recording artist for their work. This must be the reason I am drawn to the idea if getting paid for doing nothing more than making a spectacle of myself like in the above shot. ow there’s a word; shot.
So not a drop of drink passed my lips yesterday, nor today unless something goes horribly right. I have been helping to plan the inaugural Christmas Fair at the offices of Currencies Direct in Sophia Antipolis on 13th December, where I have been asked to come and sign copies of my book. Anyone who has something to sell for Christmas is welcome to exhibit and I shall be revealing details of this must attend event in the next few days. There are several fairs being held locally, I will try to cover them all in the coming days.
Leaving Nice on Friday and flying to Nairobi on Saturday presents an obvious logistical challenge that had not occurred to me; we must find a hotel close to Heathrow on Friday night. It has to be nearby as our flight leaves at 10.00 so we must be there by 8.00. I have never had to stay near Heathrow but somehow I suspect it is not going to be an experience I shall wish to repeat. Any suggestions for hotels nearby gladly accepted.
Chris France
Taylor Made for golf
The Regs golf tournament – sponsored by Taylor Made due to a fortunate meeting with their commercial director at Lords for Test against India earlier in the year – was a success, mainly because of the sheer numbers of my book “Summer In The Cote D’Azur” which I sold, a massive and projected 7 sales.
The golf itself was crap and I don’t want to talk about it, save to say that I must have been disturbed by the media hype about my book that may have existed only in my own mind. Most of the usual suspects were present, Mick Pedley was however without his German Shooting Trousers, but still our token German, Klaus was a no-show. Sheep loving Steve Weston was also notable by his absence, but he has already purchased a book and it was obviously going to provide him with great reading material on his was to the Dominican Republic where he was holidaying, I forgive him. Anyway, the way I played, he would have fleeced me in any wager. Pauline Bull, the beautiful former Miss England and an active REGS member not only won the ladies section but organised and directed the photo shoot for the Taylor Made management, which was the very least we could do in return for their sponsorship, one of the results of which I feature today. Her experience of appearing on TV and especially “The Generation Game” proving especially useful when dealing with the older generation which comprises most members if this golf association.
Taylor Made for Miss England
Several Currencies Direct customers where there and we even had an Australian called Bruce playing, but sadly no Sheela’s. The golf course at St Donat had largely recovered from the deluge of ten days ago with the exception of the bunkers, many of which were still yet to be repaired after the storm, and perhaps another reason Klaus the German could not make it.
Serious preparations are being made now for my trip to Kenya as we leave on Friday. Now that the world has become aware that I have endorsed the wonderful development at Medina Palms, it has been featured as one of the top 10 overseas developments in Country Life magazine this month and in the Daily Telegraph at the weekend, so if anyone wants to park some of their money in a fabulous destination with great returns, I am in a position of broker an exceptional deal as there are still a few beach houses left.
Today I must once again engage in the joys of emptying the trailer at the local tip in Valbonne. Every time I empty the trailer that nice lady decorator fills it up again. There is thus, in my opinion, nothing to gained from emptying it, but that request to empty it which is accompanied by that laser beam eye expression changes everything. I did have the temerity to think that if I left it full all the time then it could just stay in position and that she could no longer pile stuff in it, but this thought did not reach my mouth. I am of course at the very least a coward of the highest order.
The reason for the late posting of this column, which of course brightens up many a sad day is that due to the new floor I have in my kennel office, it took me most of the morning to put everything back together, and the only thing that would not work was the internet connection, thus todays gem has been constructed largely on my blackberry amid curses about leaving my things alone, but only after she had gone out…
Chris France
Master Modeller
I think I could write another book entitled “The Joys Of Castorama, On A Saturday” after yesterday’s debacle. Why that nice lady decorator chooses a weekend to go to the busiest and worst laid out do-it-yourself store in the world is completely beyond me. What is wrong with the other days of the week, when most of the great unwashed are safely at work or looking for it? It seems that we needed some boards to repair the floor of my kennel aka my office. I did not need them, she needed them, which is fine by me, but then suddenly I become involved simply because she needed someone to carry them, and so my weekend got off to a very poor start. You could say that I was board stiff, but I would not as that would be a very poor joke.
Last night to a celebration of nearly a very significant birthday for Master Mariner Mundell, starting off from his Valbonne apartment and then ending up at The Kashmir Indian restaurant in the village. This gives me an opportunity to use a photo from last weekend after Sunday’s luncheon, when the Master decided to liberate from my freezer the snowman he fostered after the Rugby World Cup Final and make some running repairs to his err…form. What I like about this picture is the expression of the god-like Zillah, his wife, as he “works” the raw material.
I hope the head does not come off in his hands....
REGS golf today at the wonderful St Donat will be the scene of another feeding frenzy of people battling to buy autographed copies of my book “Summer In The Cote d’Azur” otherwise available from the English Book Centre or by mail order. I have advance orders for 3 copies but it will not stop there, in fact I have a target of an additional 4 copies to be sold on the day meaning that I shall soon be closing in on a century, half way towards break even just 2 weeks after the launch!
Rather disappointingly I have been told that Mick Pedley will not be wearing his German Shooting Trousers which will come as a bit of a relief to our token German member Klaus. I would have so loved to get a picture of him (Mick) wearing them, ideally accompanied by a shotgun. Amongst the regulars I am expecting to see at this Taylor Made sponsored event was Dave “Tripe” Goddard and sheep loving Steve Weston whom I will try to “fleece” on a wager.
Again, you might think that playing golf with some x pats would be a leisure pursuit, but you would be wrong. I have a number of Currencies Direct existing clients playing and one new Australian, rather inevitably called Bruce, (don’t forget the form Bruce!) amongst the REGS and it will be my duty to ensure that they are all still delighted with the service offered by Currencies Direct in respect of their foreign exchange transfers.
Kenya, and in particular my visit to Medina Palms for whom I am an agent and which is newly featured in Country Life this week is rapidly approaching. This time next week I shall be there and, internet access permitting, I shall bring a you a daily run down on the lives of the idle rich of Kenya rather than the Cote d’Azur for a couple of weeks. It seems churlish not to take in a safari experience whilst there, and the shortest trip we could find was a half day, in part due to that nice lady decorators opposition to spending a night in the jungle.
Chris France
Potting the pink?
So after the excitement of the signing event at the English Book shop in Valbonne for my book yesterday had subsided and the crowd control barriers had been removed, quite a long time before they were deployed, we adjourned as I had predicted to the Cafe Des Arcades in the village square for a quiet and well deserved lunch. I wanted to savour the sale of all three books sold at the mornings signing, however, if one is to be diverted from a quiet lunch, after a walk in the Valmasque forest from where I took this picture this morning in order to build up an appetite for lunch, who better then Master Mariner Mundell and the naked politician?
There are a number of characters at whose feet I would always like to be able to lay the blame for such diversions so to encounter the Naked Politician together with his lovely hand brake wife Dawn, also lunching in the sunshine in Valbonne Square suggested that luncheon was not going to be either short or simple. I sensibly made notes on my blackberry during the afternoon of some of the conversations that occurred before things got out of hand. That the blame for lunch getting out of hand later can be laid entirely at the door of my friends is undeniable.
It was the Master who persuaded us to stay longer at lunch and then and afterwards to go back to the his residence. Initially I resisted of course but once that nice lady decorator had granted tacit approval (by not forcefully confirming we were due to return home) then my post luncheon fate was confirmed. Before that, the naked politician seemed to forget that I write a daily column much read by his peers, and revealed rather too much information about his current activities. He is a very successful commercial property developer, so successful that he now resides in the errr…. advantageous tax zone of Monaco.
He is well known for being naked on occasions, as pictures that have appeared from time to time on this blog will confirm, but he is also a politician for part of the time, and a property mogul for the commercial part of his life. I made the mistake of questioning him about one particular property owned by one of his companies in Deansgate In Manchester. I am a great lover of snooker and have a long standing affection for old snooker halls, having spent some of my early twenties in one of these where one of the artists I used to manage, Wild Willy Barrett, did some of his best work. The news that one of these venerable old establishments had fallen out with their landlords and were being closed down filled me with sadness. Yes, the naked politician is that landlord. But with every cloud there is a silver lining, so the closure of one of Manchester’s most famous snooker halls was tempered with the knowledge that the venue would give way to what the naked politician described as the biggest lap dance club in Britain, perhaps Europe. The naked politician in close proximity and with certain inalienable rights as a landlord, such as permanent access? yes, I also forsee possible problems.
It seems that local media reaction to this news is brutal, and the BBC have been especially active in providing a platform for local opposition, so much so that the naked politician made the mistake of telling me that he was intending to keep his head down…in a lap dancing club….hmm. You will know that I am one who usually tries to avoid smutty innuendo and I hope you will note that I have avoided any use of expressions such as potting the pink or the brown, or indeed of mentioming Currencies Direct. Perhaps I may have mellowed?
Chris France
Me and Peter Maile
To Valbonne then on the warm late morning sunshine to sign copies of my book for a happy customer. Life has seldom been so good. Pat Toohey, delighted with her mention in yesterday’s column excitedly clutched her freshly signed and dedicated copies of Valbonne’s latest and possibly greatest literary sensation, my book. Pat revealed to me that she has only once before sought personalised written dedications from an author and that was from the little known Peter Mayle who wrote a novel of similar standing to mine, “A year in Provence”. OK, so my book only covers six months rather than a year, but that does not mean its only half as good, no, its much worse than that.
Now don’t forget I shall be at The English Book Centre in Valbonne today from 11 until 12.00 signing copies (I do hope its plural) of my book as announced yesterday on Riviera Radio and if anyone wants to take a famous author out to lunch afterwards then I shall be very happy to see them. My picture today was taken at the book launch and features Tony “I invented the internet” Coombs making Stephen Frost laugh with his claims to have been the father of all modern technology. I think I overheard him telling the great improviser that he had just invented the I-lie, a do it yourself lie detection application. Apparently it kicks in as soon as you open your mouth.
You invented what?……. hahahahahahahahahaha
After the mob that will undoubtedly be absent from today’s signing, it is possible that I shall break my three days of temperance with a small lunch, perhaps at the Cafe Des Arcades if the sun remains in evidence as it has all week. It is after all the turn of that nice lady decorator to pay, an event like birthdays that come but once a year although they seems to be arriving more often than I remember, which must mean I am getting old.
A week today I will be heading to Africa and Kenya in particular. You may think that this could be a holiday, but even if purely for tax reasons I shall be working throughout. Medina Palms is a wonderful development on Watamu Beach which according to the Sunday Times is one of the top 10 beaches in the world. As an agent responsible for sales of units at this wonderful development, it is my irksome responsibility to test and if necessary to criticise any shortcomings I discover and clearly to be able to do this effectively I will have to try all the facilities and spend some time on that beach ensuring that it is of the high standard reported. As the development is not yet complete, I shall have to stay at the show house during my stay. I shall be reporting everyday from Kenya with pictures, just so you will all know that I am continuing my work not only on their fabulous project but on Currencies Direct as well.
Before that, even although it is the weekend and a day of rest for most people, I shall be working at the golf course on Saturday meeting and greeting my customers, many of whom play with the REGS the Riviera Ex Pats Golf Society this time at St Donat. I have managed to get sponsorship from golf manufacturer Taylor Made, part of the Adidas group, the commercial director of which is a friend and I shall be meeting him again in Kenya, where I intend to have some meaningful discussions about their allocation of tickets for a big event in London in 2012 where they are one of the main sponsors.
Chris France
Put a cork in it
From 50,075 to 29,500 in the Lulu best sellers list is a meteoric rise by any standard. A rise of over 20,000 places in one day? if you draw the graph on that one I will be in the top 10 by the weekend. Obviously the book launch was less of a launch, more of a stellar blast off. You can help this sudden ascendancy by ordering one from the tab on the right or by clicking here. For those lucky enough to live in Valbonne, home to many of the idle rich of whom I have been known to write about in this column and in that book, don’t forget I shall be at the English Book Centre in the village between 11 and 12 on Friday 18th November to sign those personal copies as Christmas presents. I do hope you will not be put off by the rush. I hear that the crowd barriers will be in place early and that seems a wise precaution. Any suggestion that these will be used to keep people in until they have bought a signed copy is as heinous as it is true.
My daily walk through the Valmasque forest is a constant source of photographs for this blog. They tend to get used when I have no fresh stupid pictures to use, but today is different, I do have some more from the weekend stored up, and unless the appropriate bribe is received shortly then several people will be the subject of that particular strand of attention for which this column is justly infamous shortly. Today’s picture is of an old cork oak tree that I found in the forest on Monday. The numbers of these magnificent trees are now being reduced significantly due to many vineyards turning to non biodegradeable plastic stoppers made from oil. This is a ridiculous concept in any event. Personally on principle I would send back a bottle using a plastic stopper if served to me in a restaurant . Screwtops I can understand if you are happy drinking crap wine but how can we justify turning away from using a traditional and sustainable method to seal wine bottles, using up valuable natural resources and increasing the landfill problem? It makes me mad. OK rant over, lets get back to local gossip, innuendo and faithful reporting of alcoholically generated stupidity that is the natural realm of this column.
A cork oak. Should be enough corks to last a week or two there
So today I shall also be in Valbonne to satisfy a huge wholesale book order. 4 copies might not seem many sales to John Grisham or J K Rowling but to me it is a significant sale. The fact that the girl buying them, Pat Toohey, wants to give them as Christmas presents to her friends back in her home village in Ireland warmed me to start with, but when she mentioned the fact that each year she is give a book written about her old village in Ireland by a local resident, and wanted to get her own back I wavered. Let her have the books or not? I think my meeting this morning to write individual dedications for her friends back in the old country tells its own story. There is also the matter of her being a Currencies Direct affiliate, so what is a man to do?
I the weekend weather remains as beautiful as it has been all week, then the REGS golf tournament will be a delight. I see I am drawn to play with Mick Pedley again. I wonder if he will be wearing his German shooting trousers again…
Chris France
Snow on them there hills
The beautiful deputy mayor did not stand a chance. Losing her voice on the day she was taking a meeting with myself and Matt Frost of French Mortgage Xpress ensured that she did not get a word in edge ways. Suffice to say that she did not put up one word of objection to our proposals, and some exciting possibilities will emerge in the coming months that may involve some leading lights of modern British comedy coming to Valbonne. Watch this space.
The days work done, we headed to the Vignale Tennis Club in the late morning for a doubles tennis match conceived over a few drinks on Sunday, and despite myself and Master Mariner Mundell sailing to victory, there seemed to be some dispute about who won. 4-6, 6-1, although being nominally a draw at one set each was in fact a victory for us on the count back. That it was not seen that way by the losing pairing, the Wingco and Mr Frost, is a matter of some regret for me, but I am sure I will get over it, as must they.
The traditional lunch at Auberge St Donat is now such an entrenched habit that there was not even a discussion, we went straight there, us to bask in a victorious glow, them to sulk in the shadows of defeat. Good shadows were also in full view yesterday where I took this picture on my morning cycle ride (yes, it has come to that to deal with a slight expanding of the waistline). I had considered the gym, but when I asked the fitness trainer which machine I should use in order to regain my allure to the opposite sex, he suggested an ATM machine. The photo was taken from the Peyrebelle area of Valbonne looking from Valbonne up towards the Southern Alps and shows the first snows of winter well established, ensuring I think a timely opening of the higher ski resorts in a couple of weeks.
The first snows
Promotion of my book took up much of thee afternoon, at least it took a great deal of thought, which I thought was best undertaken with my eyes closed whilst swaying in the hammock in the sunshine. I find I do some of my best thinking there, even although I often cannot remember what it was I thought. A press release was prepared later on and is now ready to tear into the literary maelstrom which will become my natural spiritual home in the future.
One thought that I do remember is that it is now only 10 days before I set off for Africa, and I must consider what to pack. I must also consider who might be the best provider of some local currency, and whilst Currencies Direct would certainly be the best bet if I had a bank account in Kenya, they are less inclined to deal in cash. Apparently it is not allowed because of some irksome money laundering regulations.
Before that, on this Saturday coming is the rearranged REGS golf tournament, washed out a few weeks ago and at St Donat for which I have arranged Taylor Made sponsorship, but until then I once again plan to eschew strong drink. If I make it until Saturday it will be the longest spell of temperance I have undertaken for about seven years, so the chances are not good. I think I said once last year that as far as the attempted avoidance of alcohol goes I had set the metaphorical bar too high, when I needed to set the actual bar too high to give a decent chance of making it to the weekend.
Chris France
Summer In The Cote d’Azur available now
At last, I have worked out a way to order my book online. If you click on the title “Summer In the Cote d’Azur” you can order it online, but if you live in France or use a french debit card, expect to pay VAT, so ordering on a UK card is cheaper, but please note it does not support American Express in France despite claiming it does. The insignificant cost, a mere £10 plus post and packaging cannot be enough to deter anyone from ordering a copy now. In fact, what a great Christmas present? even for someone you don’t like.
If you are local, then The English Book Centre in Valbonne has some signed copies available, and I shall be at the shop on Friday 18th between 11 and 12 if you require individual dedications for loved ones for Christmas, or hate mail depending whether you are in the Wingco’s camp and thus consider the book “ghastly”.
I did not have space yesterday for the many stories collected on my faithful blackberry on Sunday. I found a veritable treasure trove of interesting and sometimes embarrassing information on it yesterday morning when I finally had a chance to look at it. Did you know that more than one person it our midst thinks the Wingco looks like Joseph Stalin? However the best story emanated, perhaps inevitably, from Peachy Butterfield. It seems that when at a barbecue in the semi frozen north of England last year, on the one day where the temperature reached double figures, Peachy was entertaining his mad Aunt and her friend. They had set up a kids paddling pool in the garden, the equivalent of a swimming pool in the Cote d’Azur, in case they were overcome by the heat of the English summer and Peachy, after feasting on his usual diet of suet pudding, lard, tripe and road kill, and never being one to hold back, stripped to his love heart embellished underpants and jumped into the paddling pool. One would have thought that most of the water would have left at the same time, the displacement numbers being fairly clear, However, his 79-year-old aunt, not to be outdone, whipped of her dress to reveal she was topless beneath and joined him in the paddling pool. Worse was to come, his aunts friend, a mere stripling of 77 decided to join in, but she removed her dress to reveal nothing whatsoever underneath and also jumped in. Just to be clear about this, the result was that Peachy ended up in a paddling pool up north with two ladies averaging 78, with no bras and only two pairs of pants between the three of them.
What a good-looking chap. I bet he has written a book ideal for Christmas presents
So today I shall be meeting the deputy mayor of Valbonne to discuss putting Valbonne on the comedy map, in the nicest possible way. I think she bought a book at the launch but was perhaps too in awe of me to ask for an autograph, so I shall take my pen with me just in case. I may also take the plans I have for extending my house. Mayoral approval is now almost a formality, thereafter if the Master Mariner has done his duty, tennis and lunch at the Auberge St Donat in that order.
One sad piece of news is that the John Otway’s talk next month in Valbonne has had to be postponed for family reasons but will hopefully be rescheduled for early next year. Anyone who has already bought tickets can get a full refund at the English Book Centre.
Chris France
Master mariner in iceberg shock
Sunday, the traditional day of rest dawned bright and sunny, it was only later that the metaphorical clouds created by alcohol descended, but as usual, that was after an especially bright period. Lunch without knowledge, my knowledge that is was about to take place. If I had cared to look, the signs were there, the enforced gardening yesterday, the especially long trip to the supermarket, the ridiculous bill for that nice lady decorator “just popping out for a few things”, but I had my Sunday Times, the hammock, a tantalising view of snow on the highest mountains, warm sunshine and a coffee, and all was well with the world, until around 2pm when people started arriving.
Firstly (as usual) Master Mariner Mundell and his wife, the god like Zillah arrived early as is often the case. The Master must have misread the tides or there was a following wind or something, or perhaps a man who has been religiously circumcised (and that does not mean he had sailed around the world if you get my err…drift) wanted to ensure that he extracted the maximum value from any situation.
Suzanne Butterfield appeared and then her husband Peachy hoved into view, although given his gargantuan size there was not much of a view of anything else was left. He was clutching a magnum of 2011 Cote du Rhone, so fresh it was still warm from the summer and with he was particularly pleased. He seems to eschewed the Mancunian Merlot and the Accrington Stanley Asti Spumante and the other wine gems he has visited upon is in the past, having at last discovered cheap French wine, which is a move forward however small. He did spend some time bemoaning the fact that the Cote Du Rhone he has found recently which he considers a bargain t 1.39 Euros (about £1.20 at today’s exchange rates according to Currencies Direct) had apparently sold out, not being on the shelves. I think it is more likely that it been moved to the paint stripper department.
But then, just I had come to terms with the probable destruction of my wine stocks, Matt Frost from French Mortgage Xpress and his carer and wife Viv also appeared and I knew then it was going to be a big day.
Regular readers will know that in situations such as these my faithful blackberry will record many a quip, jest or misplaced comment, which will often result in producing a gem for my research, and today is no exception. Some hilarity was heaped on Matt because of my piece earlier in the week where I had revealed that Matt had been cleaning his fridge and become frustrated that it would not polish up nicely, until I suggested he remove the protective plastic coating that had been in place for 6 years.
Master Mariner Mundell being mundane
I took this picture later in the evening (yes lunch was still going on after dark) when The Master Mariner was keen to see the snowman he had made a few weeks ago which had been nestling in our freezer ever since. He was convinced it was part of an iceberg he had once sailed past, but where lettuce comes into it I cannot really say.
I shall now make my usual Monday morning platitudes (nothing to do with my goatee beard which is developing into something rather splendid) about not drinking and excercising regularly for the next week and refusing any social occasion to ensure that my body resumes its Adonis like stature before we go to Kenya towards the end of the month, but this is in the full knowledge that I expect to fail.
Chris France
A damaging Frost?
Gardening. A word that strikes horror deep into my soul. It dawned bright and sunny yesterday morning and I was just beginning to contemplate taking the new John Grisham novel out to the hammock for a little rest and recouperation, and to ensure that his writing standards had not slipped below mine, when I was intercepted and suddenly presented with gardening gloves and various wicked looking implements apparently often used in outdoor areas. Was it Winston Churchill who, when describing golf, called it “an activity invented in hell with implements designed by the devil”? He got it wrong, this statement sums up exactly how I feel about gardening.
So as the late great rugby league commentator Eddie Waring used to say, I went for an early bath after my garden exertions. At least my exertions in the garden bring a more positive result than the exertions of that faeces filled Fido, Banjo. I was asked and under pressure had agreed to take a trailer full of cuttings and garden refuse to the local recycling depot in Valbonne, but the attempt by that nice lady decorator to smuggle a bucket full of his calling cards into the trailer that she had collected before I could mow the lawn came to nothing. It is her dog, she can dispose of his droppings.
Winter will soon be upon us, so today I have a picture of some early Frosts, these were photographed in Bluebell the camper which had to be pressed into service last weekend during the rains as that nice lady decorators vehicle a 4×4 decided to get itself a bit wet and refuse to move.
That nice lady decorator with Matt, Simon and Stephen Frost. who appears to be doing an Artful Dodger move.
I wondered why it was that Matt and Stephen Frost call Simon, their little brother Walking Eagle. It seemed to me that Bald Eagle might be a more suitable nickname given the lack of hair in the picture above but Stephen said that there was a time when that was the case but that nowadays, he was so full of shit he would never get off the ground so they had decided to call him Walking Eagle.
The signs are that there is some kind of gathering for Sunday lunch. As I have no executive power or authority in this department, I am eagerly awaiting news. I wonder where we are going? it is so exciting. I just know that Peachy Butterfield will be involved due to overhearing a chance telephone conversation, so one way or another I shall be subjected to his latest find, a cheeky little Cote Du Rhone for 1.39 Euros. I can feel my stomach cramps already. More news tomorrow.
A meeting with the mayor’s office on Tuesday may open the door for a series of exciting events emanating from the modern comedy world here in Valbonne, but then again given my previous experience of trying to book the communes facilities in the past, when I received a very De Gaulle like “Non” when I wanted to stage an event last year, I do not want to read too much into this, however, reports seem to indicate that the deputy mayor loved the book launch event and by all accounts seems to understand the value to the village of empowering the local ex pat community for the good of village commerce. Rather interestingly, she has a brief to involve herself with the ex pat communities.
I have been wracking my brain as to how to get a mention in for Currencies Direct today, but so far I have come up with nothing, so I think I will have to leave it for today.
Chris France
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