Preparations

Yesterday we drove to Ikea in Metz. We quite like it there, but we like the drive better, so much that we did it again today. Sixty kilometres through rolling countryside, flowering trees and fields of rape glowing bright yellow, in perfect twenty something degree sunshine, and the car goes back tomorrow so it was going to be our last chance to buy something in a flat pack for a time.

We've been thinking about our plans, and how a month in Paris seemed such a good idea, and how easily we took the decision this morning to abandon the journey west for this year. We have a window of opportunity you see, to upgrade the electrics at the end of this month, and doesn't the long suffering Michel look happy at the thought that he may not have to rescue us again. More importantly we should end up with years of trouble free service if all goes according to plan, so Paris can wait.

We turned off life support for the fridge this evening, grateful for the fact that we were able to wring another year out of it anyway, and while its passing was not unexpected, the battery charger we bought last year to get us by, and nearly didn't bring with us is now a barely adequate doorstop, awaiting the manufacturer's replacement to arrive.

It seems that in Lagarde our amazing luck continues to hold; if something is going to break, for completely inexplicable reasons, it does so in port, where help is cheerfully at hand.

Meanwhile outside, the trees continue to grow leaves and drop flowers and the grass remains greener than green, and tomorrow we buy tins of tuna and cassoulet and jars of pickles and fresh baguette, enough for a week with no fridge, and when we think the time is right, we will quietly slip away.

We will be alone on the river, and that's got to be worth not going to Ikea for.