I know that I have made a big, big mistake. I have a terrible sense of doom. Last night at around seven Alain popped round for two things. The first to remind Jan that she had offered to buy one of his paintings the other night, and the second to invite me to look for mushrooms, with Vincent, on Friday.
The last time I had this terrible sense of impending disaster was when Eric, the man who came to fix the shutter that Max had broken, was here. It has always concerned me that if there was a fire near the front door, which is where the electricity board is situated, this could disable all the shutters, which are are electrically controlled, and then how the hell would we get out? I mentioned this to Eric who looked at me with a certain disdain. He muttered something unintelligible in the local dialect which I took to mean, "When the flames are burning the hairs on your arse then I'm sure you will think of something. When all is said and done, your dog didn't find it too difficult and all he wanted to do was to get his leg over." Or something like that.
Anyway, if the weather is fine Alain, Vincent and I leave on Friday at 05.00. My fear wasn't diminshed when I protested at the unearthly hour and Alain mentioned that we would stop on route for a wee coffee. Now I know Alain and Vincent very well, they both like a drink, a big drink, at any hour day or night, on any day, in any week in any month. We would not stop for coffee, that's for sure!
Let me tell you about the last time we had a 'session' with them. A couple of years ago it was raining. Raining so hard and for such a long time that part of the garden was under water. Even the pool had got flood water in it. I had to do something quick and drastic. This involved digging a couple of big drainage ditches to let the water get away. Alain happened to come by early that morning, I can't remember why and, understanding the predicament, shot off to get Vincent who had a little tractopelle which would do the job. We finished at 11.30 and, very relieved and thankful, I invited them both in for coffee. I have subsequently learnt that at 11.30 these two do not drink coffee, in fact I suspect they never drink coffee. How naive! I cracked open the wine whilst Jan and I drank coffee. At 12.30 I whispered to Jan that I thought we should offer some lunch, at which point Jan and I started on the wine as well. By 14.00, with the party in full swing, I remembered that Vincent liked whisky. Jan and Alain continued with wine. By 15.00, when we are all having difficulty standing up, Vincent invites us down to his newly built cave, in the fields outside the village, to taste his first ever attempt at making his own wine. This was a BIG mistake, because we started sipping from huge, 6 metres high, tanks of several different wines. He had thousands of litres of this stuff and we were in no state to differentiate between water, petrol, wine or coconut juice. At 18.00 we are now in serious trouble. Jan, who never goes to the toilet in the countryside, staggers outside into the dark and promptly steps up to her knees in a big puddle. After sorting herself out she is pulling up her pants when a car comes into view and she falls into the full glare of the car lights. Bear in mind that we are in the pitch black depths of the countryside and no one has visited this place since we arrived. Bad luck or what? All I can say in our defence is that it was the early days of our life in the village and we have since moved on but if there two people that I steer clear of when it comes to party time, it's Vincent and Alain. Come Friday I am going to spend 12 hours with them. Is it any wonder that I have an impending sense of disaster?
Let me tell you about the last time we had a 'session' with them. A couple of years ago it was raining. Raining so hard and for such a long time that part of the garden was under water. Even the pool had got flood water in it. I had to do something quick and drastic. This involved digging a couple of big drainage ditches to let the water get away. Alain happened to come by early that morning, I can't remember why and, understanding the predicament, shot off to get Vincent who had a little tractopelle which would do the job. We finished at 11.30 and, very relieved and thankful, I invited them both in for coffee. I have subsequently learnt that at 11.30 these two do not drink coffee, in fact I suspect they never drink coffee. How naive! I cracked open the wine whilst Jan and I drank coffee. At 12.30 I whispered to Jan that I thought we should offer some lunch, at which point Jan and I started on the wine as well. By 14.00, with the party in full swing, I remembered that Vincent liked whisky. Jan and Alain continued with wine. By 15.00, when we are all having difficulty standing up, Vincent invites us down to his newly built cave, in the fields outside the village, to taste his first ever attempt at making his own wine. This was a BIG mistake, because we started sipping from huge, 6 metres high, tanks of several different wines. He had thousands of litres of this stuff and we were in no state to differentiate between water, petrol, wine or coconut juice. At 18.00 we are now in serious trouble. Jan, who never goes to the toilet in the countryside, staggers outside into the dark and promptly steps up to her knees in a big puddle. After sorting herself out she is pulling up her pants when a car comes into view and she falls into the full glare of the car lights. Bear in mind that we are in the pitch black depths of the countryside and no one has visited this place since we arrived. Bad luck or what? All I can say in our defence is that it was the early days of our life in the village and we have since moved on but if there two people that I steer clear of when it comes to party time, it's Vincent and Alain. Come Friday I am going to spend 12 hours with them. Is it any wonder that I have an impending sense of disaster?
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