My furniture's been packed two days ago. I actually felt sick all that day, probably from the stress of moving. When I found myself all alone in the empty appartment, my gut knot itself up, just like when one has stage fright; I'd been very happy for the past four years in that Bangkok riverside appartment.
Last Sunday the private concert I was preparing with Brittany, Ema and Jonathan went very well. Despite Brittany being very sick that evening, she performed wonderfully. We had a good audience of around 60 people and a baby, most of them my friends and colleagues who had come to say goodbye. We enjoyed the delicious food of the British Club, cocktails and wine, and the four of us entertained our guests with a programme of French Renaissance chansons all featuring some kind of food or agricultural item.
I had also organized a competition for the audience: people had to spot the items in the songs that could be eaten or drunk. At the end of the show, I compared their list with my master list so as to attribute the three prizes I had prepared. There was heated argument whether blood, ants or bees could be eaten or not. In the end, Pascal Butel got the third prize: a bottle of Bombay Saphire gin. Marie-France and Jean-Philippe Thouard won the second prize: a large chunk of Parmigiano Reggiano cheese. And France and Hugo Hörndli mustered the longest list of edible items to win the first prize: half a Spanich chorizo. We all had great fun.
Take a bow
Madonna, Bedtime stories, Warner Bros