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.
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.
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