think courageous step, although at the time I thought a remarkably stupid one. The following day suited and booted with attaché case in hand I began the bewildering challenge. First port of call was The Cache Club; a concierge Company. I felt like the new kid at her first day at boarding school. Terrified. I was duly shown into the boardroom where the interrogation, or so I thought at the time, began. This was the first of some thirty meetings I had over the week, through exhaustive research prior to my departure, of the principal companies that I felt may be suited to my new career. In England I operated as journalist and Public relations consultant. However, this was a whole new ball game. Over the following next few days, traipsing the pavements in search of the dream job but not getting within an inch of it, I became despondent and by Friday decided I had given it my best chance; it was time to call it a day and settle down for a long liquid lunch with the second of my contacts and start preparing for my return to blighty. Having had more than enough of liquid refreshment and feeling relieved that my ordeal was nearing an end; I really had tried every avenue and felt proud of my efforts, my mobile rang. It was the Cache Club asking to see me again in the next half an hour. Uh oh, I was in big trouble. You hardly go and see a prospective new employer having almost drunk a restaurant dry. A bucket load of espressos later, I boldly marched into the office and was offered the job of public relations consultant and events organiser for the Company. Oh boy, it is one thing arriving in a foreign country looking for a job; it was quite literally terrifying, landing one. Having co-ordinated and reported on hundreds of events over the years, I thought this new job would be a cinch. Wrong again. My first event for the Cache Club involved the launch of a Champagne House I brought in, called ‘Chez Victor.’ Victor is an old friend but despite some initial worries about organising his launch event in Marbella, of which I still knew very little about, I trusted my instincts to carry it off without a hitch. Wrong again. Victor and his wife Sue arrived at Malaga, on time.
However some dim-witted luggage carrier at Heathrow decided that the numerous cases of champagne should be shipped on a later flight. Many may think no problem. It was a massive one. The timing of the launch was 5.30pm to coincide with the Hotel sommeliers and restaurateurs timetables. The champagne was due to arrive at Malaga at 7.30pm. The event was being held in Puerto Banus. Disaster. I managed to contact all those invitees to inform them of the delay. All were fine; my reputation was intact. Nothing else could go wrong or could it? It did. The caterers pulled out at the eleventh hour. There was no other solution but a rather rapid DIY job. It worked. Chez Victor was launched with great aplomb but that was not the end of this bubbly tail. Sadly the cost and unseen or unknown complications of shipping it to Spain was untenable. Now should I have been in Spain for a couple of years, rather than a couple of months, I may have actually considered looking into the fundamentals of shipping. This was a very early lesson I was to learn that Spain was perhaps not the easiest country to operate from. That I have now realised has to be the understatement of the decade. I spent a very happy 10 months working for the Cache Club but I think may be the Directors ruled the day they employed me. Unlike most other companies on the Costa del Sol they did not believe in the traditional siesta and the lunch break was strictly from 1-2pm. Now this seriously ruffled my feathers. Day one I adhered to this, day two I thought that I would start as I meant to carry on as I did with my legendary lunches in London. The second day, one started at 2pm and I just managed to catch the Directors before they left for the day at 7pm. Needless to say after some months they realised that something had to be done to stop this loose canon who was rapidly becoming ‘the Pied Piper of the lunchtime brigade. They brought in a signing in/signing out book. I on learning about this, literally and quite cockily blew my stack. I decided to retaliate, since I have
The caterers pulled out at the eleventh hour. There was no other solution but a rather rapid DIY job
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