So....P and I leave the country in 5 short days. Yikes.
I am finishing off my corrections tonight (MD tantalisingly nearing completion) and also packing up our possessions. P has sorted out all his clothes, I have done only a little of this. We also need to do things like go to Ikea and lie on mattresses to decide which one to buy from ikea.fr who actually will deliver a bed to central Paris.
You have to pay them, obviously.
I still wonder how one has a visitor to the appartement. ie, if someone were at the door for you, how would you know, because there is no door bell. This is relevant because if Pierre and Claude are at the front door with my 4'6" mattress, I would rather hope they would be able to get in.
I had a minor melt down last night and it was all brought on by Bruce Forsyth. I was watching Strictly, sitting on the sofa, all comfy and cosy and luxuriating in space around me, and it jsut hit me that in one week I would be in Paris, no BBC, no comfy sofa on which to luxuriate, no familiarity. I just had a slight wobble. I am back on track now though I think.