On every single ex-pat table, at this time of year, you will find something similar to this (below). A big vase of Sunflars, a bowl of Olives, and a glass of Petrus or The Widow. The braying classes have temporarily quit their extensive Hampshire, Gloucestershire, or Dorset Estates for their little pile in Juan-les-Pins, Perigord, or Tuscany.
The wives all wear obligatory long silky diaphanous dresses and wide brimmed straw hats. They visit local markets where they speak in exceptionally loud voices whilst buying local delicacies at outrageous prices, and taste dainty samples of 'oh how delicious' Absinthe flavoured Alpaca Milk 'Brie'.
They exchange news about little Piers at Dragon, or Tarquin at Harrow. They talk of the new Georgian style extension to add another few bedrooms (only they're not sure how many) to their already enormous old manor houses. And they discuss tiny out-of-the-way, and still unheard-of, restaurants in darkest Gloucestershire where one can eat vegetable-foam for as little as £150 per person.
Yes, it's The Silly Season. The children have all been away in the Glasto' mud; Mrs Mop is looking after the house, whilst Mr Mop sees to the lawns and trims the topiary. Veronica pops in to feed Constance's horses and Penelope's ponies, the 'plumbing chappie' has been asked to service the boiler, and the 'roofing chappie' will look at the flashing around the main chimney on the Gate House.
They'll be back in a few weeks time, and life will continue as normal; all is well with the world.
"add another few bedrooms to their already enormous old manor homes"
ReplyDeleteOne has to wonder why. Why isn't it enough to have what they have?
12 bedrooms are never enough.
DeleteSounds as though you've had to hide under your beret after running into some of these at a local market. Expats here are a different breed but rate the same on the cringe scale.
ReplyDeleteI once came across a man wearing a kilt at a market shouting to his friend that the French had no idea how to cook Asparagus. Cringe worthy.
DeleteFantastic ! We need more of this entertainment !
DeleteWhat a strange piss take coming from you.
ReplyDeleteIt's a strange world here in July.
DeleteSounds like Burnham-Downmarket...
DeleteI'm sure it happens everywhere.
DeleteHaw-haw!! Is your obligatory bottle of Petrus there a prop or the real deal?
ReplyDeleteVery much a prop. I use it to fill from big wine containers.
Deletehaha. I agree with Rachel. Can you hear yourself ?
ReplyDeleteOf course; I'm the ringleader!
DeleteWell Caz, he's fooled most of his readers! I am glad to have your company.
DeleteSounds much like Aldeburgh here in Suffolk. But agree you do sound very grouchy
ReplyDeleteNot really, we treat the Summer Season as part of life's rich tapestry. It's all good fun.
DeleteWine, olives and warmth, how wonderful. Discrete wealth offends me much less than crass and loud public bragging by those who have pulled themselves up by their bootstraps.
ReplyDeleteI just wish I had the wealth; discreet or not!
DeleteYou get them all over the world...we have even seen them in NZ...we do our best to merge in with the locals, they are so embarrassing and cringeworthy!!
ReplyDeleteThey get everywhere.
DeleteI greatly enjoyed this chunk of creative writing. All the better that the keen observation came from a gentleman who by nature tends view society through a somewhat conservative lens. Thanks for the chuckle.
ReplyDeleteI'm proud to admit that that view has both a small 'c' and a capital 'C'.
DeleteYou write very well...more little descriptive cameos of your daily life would be nice !
ReplyDeleteI shall make an effort.
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