... and I'd planned to get so much done while Tod was in London. And here I am, due to pick him up this evening at Bordeaux airport and wondering which of those many tasks I can fit in this afternoon.
The garden and pool (which already is suspiciously green) will have to wait until this coming week when it's due to warm up a bit.
The tulips for the pots and the large fritillaries for the damp patch in the field can also wait. Bought after the New Year, reduced by 30% in my favourite garden centre, they always manage to come up at the right time.
I will need to give plenty of time for the journey.
Bertie, who is totally recovered from his op, will be coming with me, which means a couple of comfort breaks on the way.
The farmers' manifestations have finished, but there are likely to be mounds of old tractor tyres and bales of straw still piled up at roundabouts and junctions onto the motorway, all designed to slow us down. On Tuesday when I took Tod to Toulouse the journey there and back took 7½ hours (as opposed to the normal time of under four). We were forced off the motorway at Agen and then weaved our way in a line of traffic (nose to tail like processionary caterpillars) through small towns and villages, each with their traffic calming measures. By this stage, the last thing we were was calm!
At least going to the airport we were in our "almost-new" car - a Renault Kadjar, which I'd never heard of until I hired one at Christmas to collect K from up on the Massif Centrale beyond Rodez. The Merc finally told us it had had enough, and refused to move out of first gear and even after repair felt untrustworthy - hence the hire car and then the decision to buy one.
So, the Renault will be Bertie's and my mode of transport to Bordeaux airport this evening. Coming to this from driving two cars over twenty years old, is something of a culture shock - no ignition key and no brake handle for a start. But it has a camera at the back, which is reassuring when reversing in Leclerc's carpark. And after downloading the computer manual which runs to some140 pages (the main car manual is a further 310) and sitting in the driver's seat for two hours while I pressed buttons and swiped screens, I have managed to programme the sat nav to get us home (more than I could do on the way back from Toulouse). At least to get us home-ish. The computer informs me that we are not shown on the map, so I've put in the name of a neighbouring lieu-dit on the ridge up behind us.
A further hour in the driver's seat, with computer and mobile phone (what IS Bluetooth exactly?) and I have managed to load on my Spotify playlist - more than twenty-four hours of my kind of music. That will keep me going through any burnt tyre induced traffic jams. And for the journey home with Tod? I'm hoping my mobile and BBC Sounds will come up trumps, with soothing late night music on Radio 3.
Somewhere in the manual I came across something about setting the car seats to "massage". I think I know what I'll be doing this afternoon before Bertie and I leave for the airport.
