So, the man's a cardiologist and, I am sure and assured, a very good one. He's a drummer whose love of music is so strong he'll jump on a plane from Nice to catch a show at Ronnie Scott's club in London and he's an occasional wannabe racing driver putting Ferraris through their paces at the Paul Ricard circuit in Castellet.
And then there's his art.
In the sublime setting of Le Mas du Langoustier, a treasure of a hotel in the wilds of the island of Porquerolles, Patrice Melia - a man I am proud to call a friend - opened an exhibition of his works, 30 prints capturing in encre de chine (oddly enough, Indian ink to us) cherished moments from his frequent travels abroad, especially to South East Asia.
Over plentiful Porquerolles wine and amuses-gueules and tapas French-style, we joined Patrice's friends and relatives for his vernissage, which runs until July 1.
There was the retired French newspaper executive who answered my question - "would you say you actually liked journalists?" - with a short pause and then a stern appraisal: une population difficile. I felt I could live with that, especially as it was fleshed out with a story of his horror at full-page coverage of a controversial incident at a supermarket chain which caused the store to pull its advertising.
In truth, we got on rather well. I assured him that the gentleman proprietors I had worked for, who naturally professed deep love for newspapers, were not really so different from the business types who saw publishing pretty much as they would flogging tins of biscuits. They, too, loathed most of their journalists.
There was also the man who is Very Important Indeed at a chain of food retailers we happen to swear by. And Patrice's beautiful wife, Caroline, along with his mother, cousin and brother-in-law.
Patrice's clever and highly musical son Gauthier was present, too. He's searching for the perfect French sound and may well have the talent and invention to be the one to create it; I did try to turn him on to an excellent anglophone French duo, Cats on Trees, but fear he'll find them all too accessible.
Great company, the threatened storms held off and what a joy to be once more on this magnificent island opposite Toulon.
It would be disrespectful to sup all that wine and nibble at the splendid fare without digging into the pocket. I liked Patrice's impression of Caroline on a holiday in Bali ...
But it may have been a little dark for its intended hanging place. So we went for this ...
You can gauge Patrice's pleasure at our choice - the Burmese sunset scene on the left - and you can almost taste Mme Salut's celebratory glass of bubbly.
But you may only guess at my inner smile at discovering there's at least one thing he doesn't do quite so well. The next photo shows him jigging unconvincingly to UB40 with Gauthier and Mme Salut.
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