There are some questions in the English language, and I’m sure in other languages too, that fill a chap’s heart with a sense of enormous well being and chuffedness. In fact there are a number of examples; “would you like to go on a date with gorgeous Jen in accounts, she really fancies you”, “would you like some more cash? quite frankly I’m bored with it and you’d get much more fun from it that I will”. However, my personal, recent favourite has to be a very simple one.
In January I went out to Nice to work with Nice Pebbles rentals and as soon as I saw the women jogging along the promenade in fur coats, heels and liberal splashes of diamonds, I was hooked. Granted, the exact specifics of their outfits may have been altered for artistic impact, but that was how it felt. There may have been less diamonds and more spandex, but the fur coats were still there. However, one notable absence, was the complete lack of any sense of perspiration. I don’t think that breaking in to any semblance of perspiration is the done thing. The done thing is very much to be seen and I have no problem with that as it is hugely fun to watch.
Back to the point in hand. I must have done something right and proper with my previous set of photos as rather wonderfully, I have been invited to go back to Nice. The question was put to me in a hugely simple and enormously professional way, my reaction was less so. My reaction proved, if I needed further proof, that I am a rubbish poker player and an even worse liar. Hard as I try, when I try to contain any level of excitement or act cool, my jiving eyebrows and camel eating grin give me away. If memory serves, I gabbled out a stream of “yesIwouldlovetoofantasticacebrilliantexcellentcan’twait” in to the room before the question had even been finished. I have no sense of cool.
So, to cut a long story short, I shall soon be going back to Nice to look a beautiful people jogging badly, bask in the beauty of the Cote D’Azur and cry at the price of a pint of beer. Oh, and take a photo or 800 in to the bargain. What more could a chap want?