Sleepless in the Bastille.
I’ve named my new block the Bastille. The road is Montargis Way, named after our twin town.
Apart from the football, being positive is work in progress. New flat, new hazards. The average age de Bastille must be well over 75. I know it’s not my age, I have dreams, sorry nightmares of zimmer-framed old dears chasing me round shouting “young man” but this place will be ideal for me.
The earliest time I can get a builder is late October so I’m looking for a plumber so I can have a dishwasher and washing machine. My travel chair needs replacing after it let me down on the way to town. My dear diminutive friend Emily heroically pushed me back in the searing heat. Then it worked again but I don’t think it’s fit to take me around the country. The shower doesn’t work; more money and I’m still waiting for broadband. 3 cheers for BT fon. This week will be a flat packed frenzy. If I could get some friends around.