The Bold and the Beautiful
Bonjour mes amies!
The further adventures of The Boy Christie in French France go sumfink along these lines...
The jobsworth woman at check-in at Glasgow wasn't going to let me on the plane because she refused to believe that I was going away for a few months and thus eyed me beadily as if I was some kind of reverse illegal immigrant. No wonder Britain is going to the dogs with public servants of her calibre. Then, much mirth and merriment at Amsterdam Schipol as The Boy Christie knotted himself over the parade of continental mullets. Joyous.
FYI Unless anorexic, don't fly KLM. The 'meals' wouldn't satisfy a bulimic termite.(Emmy, I could have WEPT).
Anyway, hotel is basic but clean, although there was a French couple copulating noisily through the wall the other night. Lots of 'Oui!' and 'Je t'aime!', the dirty buggers. Maybe they were Belgian.
Antibes is rather nice, quite posh, apparently Roger Moore is here on his yacht which seems tremendously jolly. Cannes is ten minutes that way and Nice and Monte Carlo are fifteen minutes that way, so the schmoozing possibilities are somewhat high.
Been around all the yachting agencies, they need my CV worse luck, but big bro has managed to sort all that out, bless him. As most of you will know, The Boy Christie struggles with the mechanics of a pencil sharpener and can't work computers in English, let alone French, so hopefully the nice monsieur who owns this establishment will be able to help.
Trying to speak the lingo as much as I can (this being the whole reason I'm here), as well as eavesdropping at every possible oppurtunity to try and determine what people are actually saying. It's like the 62 bus, but with better tans.
Speaking of tans, I'm a light brown at the moment, a Whitney Houston kind of colour, having mercifully bypassed the orange side of the spectrum. Am going for the full Stevie Wonder, so have a couple of months to work on it.
Am in Antibes till August 14th, then hopefully out sur la mer for about six weeks, then two weeks on Corsica, ferry to Marseilles, TGV up through France to Paris (it only takes 3 hours, get that RIGHT up you Virgin trains) and home via there. If any of y'all are stoating about La Republique at that time geeza shout.
I've got my mobile with me for any texts of praise/complaints/general abuse, so get in touch if you want to. If not before, I'll probably see y'all halfway through October...
A bientot,
Le Garcon Christie (a.k.a Jean-Jacques Smoothie) x
