The summer is on it's way
As we had to go into the lab early to lug in my ‘specimen’, my charming husband took me out for breakfast on the port. The weather is so good today we sat outside.

I'd just like to say....
If you want your stats to go up, up, up. Don't rely on Blogsites (hope there isn't really one called that). Just get yourself mentioned on Zoe's blog (twice). My average visitors for this week have gone beyond my wildest dreams, thanks Zed

S.O.S.
I still can't send my picture, Hello doesn't want to upload it, any ideas?

Update
Yesterday was the day I decided that I had the time to do my blood tests for diabetes. One test in the morning before breakfast having fasted for 12 hours. The second test an hour and a half after the start of lunch. The Doctor didn’t tell me that I would have to pee as well and he certainly didn’t mention that today I would be collecting pee for twenty four hours. On the instructions it says you must drink plenty of water. By four this afternoon I’d already filled the two and a half liter container they’ve given me. I hate it! I also had to tell them my weight in front of all the people waiting behind me, it’s not that bad, but still….. Actually all the people who work at the lab are really nice

While I was in town during the afternoon I walked up to the language school by the station and handed my CV over to the receptionist. Yes, they have a receptionist and it looked tidy and welcoming and all of the chairs were the same. There is also a bus stop right out side where three buses pass, very useful.

I received my examining hours for the first week in May, I’m working all day Monday and Tuesday which was a bit of a shock as I didn’t put my self down as free on Tuesday afternoons, as it happens I am free on that particular Tuesday. I had to phone in as I had one exam finishing at 3.30 and the next one starting at 3.05. It was 3.45.

Testing

I've been having a lot of visitors to this picture. I didn't take it! I found it in the sample images in microsoft that are with the program.

Writer’s cramp.
I spent a lot of yesterday trying to write a letter to accompany my CV. This was very hard as it has to be handwritten in French with no spelling mistakes. Spelling is no problem as I can type it out in word first and let the corrector do its work. Rob checks the grammar and that I am making sense. My other handicap is my handwriting which is really bad. I can’t do joined up because it would be completely unreadable. When I was around 7 years old in primary school we had to write on sheets of paper until our handwriting was good enough to have an exercise (copy) book. I was last in class, I got a book to write in because the teacher was fed up with finding scraps for me to write on. I would like to point out that by the age of 8 I had a reading age of thirteen, in fact I tested most of the rest of the class and I can draw quite well.

My eyes work together very well, so my specialist says, one eye sees distant things and the other close up. I wonder if this is why my handwriting is so bad. I certainly can’t hang a picture straight.

Sweet potato results
We tried them yesterday cooked a la Mary Lou. We all thought they were a little bit too sweet for our tastes. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.

Stop press
I've got a new boyfriend.

A special story
I’ve just been reading about Phyllis’s special angel and it reminded me of a story of my own.

When Christian and Dominique were small (before Olivier was born), we took them into the village church to see the stained glass window. This has always been special to me because it depicts St. George and the dragon, St. George being the patron saint of England (and it was his day yesterday). I swear that when we went in there was no one there. We looked at the window and talked about the dragon and suddenly noticed a nun sitting in the corner at the side of the alter. She was dressed in brown, I’ve never ever seen a nun dressed in brown before or since. Christian was always an outgoing affectionate child and ran to her with open arms which pleased her a lot. They hugged and she asked him his name, when he told her he was called Christian, she explained that he had been given a very special name.

In the past there had been a small nunnery across the road from the church, the monks (who lived across the park) and nuns left L’Houmeau in the early eighties. Did we see a ghost? If we did, she was a very nice ghost and we certainly didn’t feel afraid. There are nuns in La Rochelle, they always wear grey. As it happens Christian is the least spiritual of my three children. There is always hope.

Unconscious Mutterings

1. Detachment:: drifting
   
2. Regard:: look
   
3. Community:: service
   
4. Strike three:: -
   
5. Congregation:: people
   
6. Generous:: happy
   
7. Pretention:: false
   
8. Pregnant:: no thanks!
   
9. Drinking:: thirst
   
10. Brilliance:: the sun