Author’s note : PART ONE of this gripping opus may be insightful/interesting/inspirational/revelatory…or not.
One of my great unhearlded talents is the ability to arrive just before the meal. (Be it lunch or dinner. As for breakfast – I’m already there.) Proof that this mojo is unconscious is the fact that after sufficiently drooling over my sunken-tub equipped palace – lunch arrived.
It was Chicken Jim. But not as we know it. An Asian recipe. Spicy but nicey. The wine however, although from the east, was not mysterious. Cote de Bourg 1996.
As we chomped and slurped, even before they groked my cinematic mission, Bernard and Marie Andre made it clear that their hospitality did not have a “best before” date attached.
After lunch Bernard toured me down his “Hall of Guitars.” Not, dear reader, a flowery figure of speech – but an existential reality. The Hall began at the junction of the living room and the kitchen, continued down past the laundry room, finally spilling out into the garage.
Both sides of the hall walls were festooned with every varitey of guitars – electric and acoustic -including a ’56 les Paul Special. (Can you say: Rare ?) I once owned one of these, but “traded up” to something else. If I had it now and sold it, I would be living for a year or two in a Moroccan Villa .(with servants) Oh well!
The program for that night was a music (not rock) concert a fair distance away. “Would I like to go?” was the (uneeded) question. My quandry was the obvious one. Cash! I doubted even my emergency bike repair fund could help me here. And, of course, after all their hospitality , I wouldn’t expect them to pay my way.
So – what to do? Fortunately, Marie Andre to the rescue: “I’m not sure there are still places available.” Ok – I demured. Let’s see what happens.
You’re ahead of me again, aren’t you? What happened was: Tickets WERE available, one WAS purchased without consulting me. Marie Andre , not crazy about the long drive and arriving in the wee small hours, would be guarding the fort.
At apero time, a gaggle of Bernard’s friends(a gaggle being more than four less than fourteen) arrived to imbibe and blah, blah. Then, to horse – and off to the fair!
The concert, in three words : Fab,Gear AND Groovy. We had good(‘tho not front row) seats, the sound was perfect. And – no riots!
Post concert we decamped to a nearby watering hole and got sufficiently watered down. Although, I hasten to add, well within the limits of responsible driving.
Arriving back at Villa Toussaint, weary but content, we were greeted by a “heat and eat” meal (pasta – what else?) Marie Andre had prepared.
That was the good news. The bad was that there appeared to be only a quarter bottle of wine left. Bernard went in search of reinforcements. Returning with half a bottle. Provisions assured. We chowed down. Then bedded down.
Not bad, wot? – my first 24 hours with this saintly duo?
Part Three – Next Time.
THROW ME A BONE HERE, PEOPLE!
What are ya thinkin’?