I AM not for a moment suggesting our house is an ex-pat equivalent of the Algonquin - the luxury New York hotel which was even more famous in years gone by. Then it was famed as the rendezvous for the literary glitterati who attended the round table, founded by Dorothy Parker, the satirist and short story-writer who famously remarked, when informed US President Calvin Coolidge had died:”How could they tell?”

It was a slightly incongruous group who assembled here in France this past week. We have been friendly for some 40-odd years with the former Watford striker Ross Jenkins and his wife Eve, the former Parmiters School teacher although Eve would contend she has greater claims to fame than that, incidentally, although "nothing I would like to admit to".

Eve spent some formative years in the Kings Road and that was where it was at in the mid-1960s and that fact proved particularly pertinent for me over the last 10 days.

They live in Javea in Spain and regular readers of my columns and blogs will be aware we meet up now and then, fitting in our visits between their trips to South Africa, where they spend ten weeks camping every year, and Thailand where they visit for two months, living a very simple life in a beach hut.

Ross and Eve are very into wild animals and have spent several years going off-road and camping on safaris in South Africa. During the course of that time, Eve has taken up photography and she has excelled, winning competitions and awards and having many published in prestigious magazines.

We popped down to see them in Javea last October and it was then Ross revealed that he is writing a book: a children’s book. He was compiling a succession of stories, taken from the viewpoint of Grandma and Gramps visiting the wilds of The Veldt, and writing initially for the benefit of his grandchildren. That autumn, he showed me his work, written laboriously in long- hand in a succession of exercise books and I was impressed.

A former professional footballer and Watford FC cult hero, who left school at 16, is writing a book, I reflected. Why have I been putting off trying to tackle such a project? Not for the first time, I was filled with admiration over Ross’s thoughtful application and the thoroughness of his approach in all things.

Eve had wrestled with writing a similar book, but was less than happy with her work, mainly because she is aiming too high, trying to produce a classic of literature. She admits this but accepting the situation is difficult, for she aspires to a more philosophical work, while trying to tone down the vocabulary for a children’s book.

So, it was with some trepidation that, after I had shown her the first chapter of my novel, I printed out the remainder of my 104,000 words at her request. Eve waded through this evocation of the 1960s and the sea-change of sexual attitudes, around which I am in the process of winding my novel. Having been there in the 60s, as indeed were Ellie and I, it was good to canvass and exchange opinions.

Ross had his writing typed out during the winter and entered on his lap-top, so in quieter times during their nine-day stay, he worked on corrections in the tranquillity of our front room. Discussions have ranged over various aspects of our respective books, and Eve, while generally approving of my work as ”very readable”, has passed on a few observations to nudge and fine-tune a few areas.

Ellie read my book in its early hesitant incarnation and then again when I considered it around 80 per cent there, so she was grateful. “Like Oli, I have lost all objective judgement on it. We have both been too close,” she explained to Eve.

One encouraging factor was when I had mentioned I had commenced the sequel, Eve requested the first tranche and read through that too.

On Thursday I downloaded their two finished books and will be looking through them now they have completed their corrections.

Ross has recruited an extremely capable artist within their family and his children’s book is now taking truly professional shape with some superb illustrations.

Of course it is all theory because neither of us has approached a publisher but I would have thought a former top-flight footballer and winner of the European Golden Boot Award might be able to open a few doors.

Either way, the therapy has been good for all of us.

“I cannot really believe that I am writing a book,” he admitted. “But I have actually started writing another, more adult book as well. I really enjoy it,” he said.

While Ellie has no intention of putting pen to paper, she has enjoyed the fact that I am out of the way, often anchored down in my office, prodding this and that chapter. It is very peaceful for both of us.

There have been occasions when in a joking exchange she has obtained the upper hand of me in banter, and I have retorted; “That’s enough. I’m going back to 1965. Things were better then,” and I have headed for the stairs and my office.

Ross and Eve left for Spain on Thursday. It was a good time with plenty of laughs and camaraderie but in the background were our projects. It is ironic that three of us, who know our best days are behind us, and the present is pleasant but not high on achievement, can indulge ourselves in musing that the future might be a little more promising.

Of course there is the reality that we might be just two or three old duffers deluding ourselves - a thought we did entertain, but not for long. Delusion is better, we feel.

We made vague plans for our next visit but, as we joked with broad smiles: “Of course, it all depends on when the books get launched.”