I write in the morning, a tidy little article on Willi Schaefer, then head through the torrential downpour and freezing temperatures to Guildford Station. I am off to Bordeaux just for a night to conduct a private seminar on wine criticism, wine writing and who would believe it, social media (pros and cons.)
There is sufficient time for a mandatory visit to the duty free to check whether they sell Creme de la Mer moisturizer, yours for just £92 per 30ml, though guaranteed to keep your skin infantile. Tomoko dreams of installing a permanent spa of Creme de la Mer so that she can stay looking 4-years old for the rest of her life. To be honest, I only have funds to cover half her face, so she must choose which side to preserve. Personally, I might steal her used 30ml Creme de la Mer pot, fill it with Nivea from Boots (buy one, get one free) and foist her off with that. However, I fear that when she is old and wrinkled like a prune, she will discover my scam and become rather miffed.
Whatever. Gatwick Airport does not sell Creme de la Mer a.k.a. moisturizer to the stars. Obviously the airport is too downmarket, whereas Heathrow Terminal 3 has the right kind of international traveller, at least the kind of traveller that refuses to age.
I check into my accommodation, the confidently named “Quality Hotel”, although upon arrival, they are unable to locate my reservation. I guess I had not enquired as to the type of quality. It could be “inadequate”. Still, the room is perfectly fine and after two hours work, I visit a friend for a delicious dinner, with the exception of nefarious Brussel Sprouts a.k.a. the devil’s spawn. You could leave a sprout marinating in Creme de la Mer for a month and it would still taste horrible. But it is a highly enjoyable evening and my guests divulge useful but unpublishable gossip upon the soap opera that is Bordeaux.
Filed under: bordeaux Tagged: | bordeaux, creme de la mer, gatwick airport
