After some negotiations between our legal team and the prosecuting magistrate it was agreed that we couldn't be held responsible for Curly Bob's behaviour but the hotel bill still needed to be settled. A few phone calls later and I had arranged for the sale of several of my paintings the proceeds of which were promised to be paid over to settle Bob's outstanding hotel bill for his room and bar.
It seems we were believed that we had absolutely no idea as to Bob's whereabouts. I made it quite clear that when I found Bob the Gendarmerie were the last thing he needed to worry about! I was cautioned that any violence committed against Bob would be treated as a criminal offence although they readily accepted that I had been provoked severely. I decided to settle accounts with Bob if and when he returned home.
On the way back to the U.K. I received several anonymous emails from Bob one of which suggested I post "Edna's Cat" - a work in mixed media from some years past.
One night in the middle of our holiday in the South of France we were woken up by the sound of someone tapping softly on our bedroom window. Initially I assumed it was a bird or other small animal then I remembered we were on the 4th floor. As I drew the curtains imagine my astonishment to see Bob dangling from a rope of knotted bed sheets. At first I thought he was escaping from a fire of from hordes of his fans.
However, the shameful truth was that Bob had run out of money. The hotel management had asked for settlement of the substantial (i.e. enormous) bar and room bill first thing the next morning or the Gendarmes would be summoned.(Cripes!) I said I would pay settle them with my credit cards but Bob told me not to bother because they had already been refused for exceeding their credit limits.
Given the desperate situation and risk to his international reputation I agreed to allow him to hide in my art satchel until we reached the rail station but after that he would have to act independently.(he would have shown up on the security X - Ray at Eurostar in Paris.)
We went on a trip to a local village and smuggled him out past a very unhappy hotel manager who looked very unhappy as he spoke to someone on the phone repeating the phrase "disparu!, disparu!" As we walked past some of the hotel bears sat on a shelf I noted they looked particularly bleary eyed, no doubt after a farewell party.
We left him at the rail station and said our farewells. I wasn't unduly concerned as Bob is a seasoned traveler and can cope with most situations especially as I gave him a substantial amount of our remaining Euros.
Our day passed very pleasantly but on our return to the hotel we were astonished to see Bob's mugshot on posters plastered all over the town. At the hotel we were met by the hotel manager and two of France's finest who wanted to know Bob's whereabouts. We feigned surprise but the rope of bed sheets outside of our bedroom window was a fatal flaw in our story. The bracelets were then slapped on us and within seconds we were being driven to the local pokey(prison to our readers abroad..Ed) We were charged with aiding and abetting a fugitive.
While languishing in my cell I was allowed to keep my I Pad(very liberal these French jails!). Bob tweeted me from somewhere in Provence and told me not to worry and to post the following painting "Dolpadarn Castle, Llanberis " - an oil on canvas. I replied to tell Bob that the only worry was that I was going to wring his neck if I ever regained my freedom!
We were under the impression that Curly Bob was staying at home to relax (i.e. to detox) after his recent trip to Paris with his punishing business agenda, (more likely all the excesses that The City Of Light can offer - Ed).
Therefore it was something of a surprise when I saw a porter in our hotel carrying a small mountain of bear sized suitcases very similar to those used by Bob when abroad. The porter asked us if we wanted the cases sent to our room on the 5th floor with the best view. We assumed this was a mistake as we were on the 4th.
Apparently a suite had been reserved in our name. The following morning I rang Bob before breakfast. I invited him to stay with us but he said "not to worry" as he was very comfortable in his suite and he wanted me to get plenty of sleep so I could carry on producing ideas and sketches for paintings on our return home.
On arrival in the breakfast room I looked for the display of delicious locally produced jams and honeys to have with my croissants. They are kept in large jars. However to my dismay they were all almost empty and looked like they had been the victim of a horde of locusts (Do locusts eat jam or honey? - Ed)
When I asked the staff member on duty he replied with a resigned shrug of the shoulders and rolled his eyes upwards with a very Gallic flourish. Other people may have thought he was seeking divine inspiration but I knew different.
On the way back to our room I was called aside by the manager who asked me to have a word with Bob. I agreed and rang Bob to ask if he could show a little consideration to his fellow guests by reducing his honey intake, turning down his music after midnight and certainly before 2 a.m. In addition his habit of tossing empty beer and wine bottles out of the window was neither ecologically sound nor good for the health of the people passing by.
Bob was not impressed but agreed to leave some honey and jam in future. (Personally I don't know what he does with such vast amounts of honey, jam and alcohol but for the benefits of his fans of a younger or more delicate disposition we will not dwell on the matter!)
We heard very little from Bob for several days apart from emails, tweets etc, one of which was a request for me to post "Dinorwig Slate Quarry, llanberis in winter" - an oil on canvas, not of Provence but certainly in a colour scheme not unknown to the area.
