The term ‘French paradox’ refers to the observation that while both the French and Americans have a diet high in saturated fats, smoke cigarettes and exercise little – which are all risk factors for cardiovascular disease – the French have a significantly lower risk of cardio vascular disease than that of the Americans: 36% compared with 75%. The difference in risk has been attributed to the consumption of alcohol and, in particular, red wine. The French consume 60 L per capita of wine per year, while the Americans only consume 7.7 L per year. (Source: http://www.thewineschool.co.za )
Which explains why I am such an avid Francophile …
Sidey’s weekend theme (for which I am, once again, late) is The Hat.
I love hats and buy them indiscriminately. I wear them in the garden, when I go work, at weddings and even, sometimes, when I am home alone watching television. You can, therefore, understand how upset I was when I discovered the adverse publicity my habit had been given by the acid-tongued Mr. P.J. O’ Rourke:
“A hat should be taken off when you greet a lady and left off for the rest of your life. Nothing looks for stupid than a hat. When you put on a hat you are surrendering to the same urge that makes children wear mouse ears at Disney World or drunks wear lampshades at parties. Wearing a hat implies that you are bald if you are a man and that your hair is dirty if you are a woman. Every style of hat is identified with some form of undesirable (derby = corrupt party worker; fedora = Italian gangster; top hat = rich bum’ pillbox = Kennedy wife. Et cetera). Furthermore, the head is symbolically identified with the sexual organs, so that when you walk down the street wearing a hat, anyone who has the least knowledge of psychology will see you as having a beaver hanging off your penis or feathers protruding from your genitals. A hat should only be worn if you are employed as a racehorse trainer or are hunting ducks in the rain.”
Very rude, Sir! I shall wear this hat, feathers and all.
Of late, I am wearing my caterer’s hat. It happened slowly; first one then another of the stylists eyed my work lunch and asked if I would consider that they pay me and I bring them lunch too. And so it began, with a quiche or a salad …
And then the orders started streaming in … customers got wind of it and I was asked for a large lasagne for a dinner party. Someone wanted a special birthday cake …
As my good friend Charlie always says: “And so it goes … “