Way to go...

This story in The Times is mainly about unpaid bills allegedly owed by the songwriter Etienne Roda-Gil (of Joe le taxi fame) but what struck me was how he seems to have led a really nice life:

"The son of a schoolteacher, he moved to Montparnasse when he grew rich and became a regular customer at the brasserie, where meals cost about €36, and at the next door restaurant where they cost about €75. The lyricist would meet his friends for a double whisky on the rocks followed usually by a steak tartare or jambon iberico jabugo. He once claimed that he wrote his finest lyrics on the back of a matchbox there. But La Closerie des Lilas says that he rarely carried cash, a chequebook or credit card, and that it sent the bill to his house around the corner every few months.
When he died of a brain haemorrhage, reportedly in the arms of a woman, €30,000 was outstanding, the brasserie says. "

Could anyone ask for more?