BONJOUR, chers Alpiniards.
As I've been working rather too hard
recently, I spent the morning hacking around Lulworth in Dorset, accompanied by
my friend Stuart and my dog. Sun, sea and as it turned out, a pint of cider.
Magical.
And illusory. For here I am back in
the PWF office, talking to you about May. Because on the 12th of that fine
month we shall set forth on a voyage Alpenwards. We will arrive late on 13 May,
and spend the 14th delivering and picking up the vivid array of things you
lovely people choose to ship to and fro. Then we shall return to the
increasingly sunny embrace of dear old Blighty.
Ideally I would sit back now and
await your mails, sucking philosophically on another pint of Old Rosie. In
reality however, a load schedule, some accounting and the school run await.
April, as an American once wrote, is the cruellest month...
A bientot, mes amis
Phil White
