Thursday, 21 August 2008

Drinking at Home

We have an internet connection. Nick says it's because Joan, from whom we're renting the apartment, had service, and the line already has a modem. There goes my excuse for going up to the bar in Cornillon every evening. . .

Having looked at my papers, my appointment with the oncologist is the 27th, next Wednesday. And it's just a consultation, no therapy. That means I can go to Avignon with Nick and take Avril to the train.

And buy a new laptop for Nick.

On the moving front, we are in the apartment, surrounded by boxes and bags. After two days of listening to Harry doing his imitation of a Siamese, we have let the cats out. It's been a quarter of an hour and they haven't run away, yet.

The Deroy family have arrived to take up residence in the schoolhouse. They came last night, with their two kids -- and two friends with their three kids. The friends are going to help them unpack when the moving van arrives this morning. That's friendship: drive 2000 kilometers (round-trip) with your kids for two days to help your friends unpack.


  1. Bah! Show the cats where the modem line is, then hike yourself on up to that bar. Anyway, who can concentrate amidst all those boxes? Do you even know which box contains the alcohol? To the bar! Is the Deroy family really, really nice or something?

  2. We *know* where the alcohol is. And I must say, I have a higher opinion of the Deroy now. But I'll know after Saturday. We're all going to an "neighbourhood" lunch.