The African Hunter - Fat Dogs and French Estates - page 116

He tried again.
“ Charles hang on a minute. We're in danger of driving around in circles here. Have
you asked what gate number we're at now and how many gates there are to this property?
If we don't get there soon it'll be time for the car's 20,000 mile service.”
Looking a little wounded, Charles scampered back to the intercom and asked the ob-
vious questions.
“It seems that we are at gate four, so we need to ignore the next one and then it'll be
number two.”
Sure enough gate number two was wide open and we finally made our entrance to the
main house.
The residence buildings were situated on a hillock in the centre of the domaine . As we
pulled up we were met by a small jocular looking man of indeterminate age. We had barely
got out of the car before he introduced himself with great drama.
“I … (pause) … am … (another pause) …” Then he stopped.
With eyebrows raised expectantly and smiling coyly he waited for us to fill in the gaps.
This was met by a resounding silence, so the poor chap tried again.
“I… am …”
No, nothing at all from us. So arms now stretched across his ample girth and looking
a little crestfallen he looked at Charles who had just appeared. Charles immediately came
to his rescue.
“Apologies all round,” he said, “here I am. Please allow me to present Signor Alessan-
dro Lorello, the famous Italian celebrity chef and owner of this magnificent establishment.”
“Ah, of course!” I cried. “How terribly rude! I'm so sorry but we didn't recognise you
just for a second there because you're normally in the kitchen!”
“But thisa eez understandable per favore to be not worried anda welcome to mya hunt-
ing paradize,” was the genial reply from the beaming chef.
Ego now fully restored, he turned and beckoned us to follow. Ever mindful of the dogs
I hesitated and asked if they could at least have a two minute breather before the grand tour
began. Signore nodded enthusiastically and sauntered over to the car. He peered in and im-
mediately started cooing.
“ Caro , caro, the little brown one ee eezer lika mya lion.”
No canine can resist a welcome like this and true to his breed standard, Biff trotted up
to the half-open window to be fully admired.
“Ah, bello , bello! ” shrieked signore , now quite enraptured by Biff's forward move-
ment.
“Do you think he'd like to keep him?” Jack murmured hopefully.
“Don't be silly darling. It's just that Italians are quite effusive about things and anyway
it's better than being told to keep them in a hot car all morning.”
“Ah, anda also you hava zee collie dog?”