A glorious day in Southern England, no doubt about it. Just finished coffee on the terrace of City Hall, and the vista over to Tower Bridge and across the Thames instills an aura of Spring holidays.
Emily arrives in St Helier within the hour, and I will join her in early afternoon. Paul and Nadine will join us tomorrow for the day trip to St Peter Port where the bi-monthly Chili Challenge, the visit to volcanic Scoville [Scoville presenting the gauge (the Scoville Heat Unit, SHU) to measure the level of pain which a chili peppered 4-course meal can inflict on you] is to take place. The peculiar thing is that the eatery imports for this special occasion the hottest chili peppers it can get hold of, and which measure around 180,000 SHU (certified), served only after expressive warning from staff. They do not serve it at the restaurant on a regular basis. In comparison - just to give you an idea - Tabasco or Jalapeños can only claim around 4,500 SHU.
Saturday night is a party at the house of one of Paul's friends (a senior treasury guy at SocGen in Paris) in St Ouens Bay. Sunday is reserved for basking in the sun, with a hefty dose of lotion applied. It's unfair that Emily tans as quickly as reading her horoscope in Paris Match, while I need to work myself through The Karamasov Brothers before showing a hint of cardinal red; forget about brown.
I dread Monday morning (who doesn't?), when we'll part again: Paul & Nadine to Paris, Emily to Auxerre in the Bourgogne, where she'll have a gig on Tuesday, and I shall arrive back in London just after noon.
[Will try to freeze-frame Sunday]
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