Single Track

Single track mind, that is.

The pressure of finding a house before the end of Friday is making me feel slightly panicky now. So imagine my delight when the kids fell on the muddy bit of the river bank just before we had to go to yet another appointment. Happily I'd already been up to the Mairie for a long chat with the Mayor's secretary, so just had time to race and buy them new trousers before an appointment spent trying to convince an achingly chic woman that, despite having no salary in France, I'll be a lovely tenant. Not the kind of meeting where you want to notice half way through that your nails are full of mud from trying to scrape it off your kids' shoes. I don't think she was convinced.

A welcome interlude at a fancy garden followed, then another viewing (no good). Oh, and Mr B's car needed exercising, but I can't exactly call whizzing through the French sunshine in a convertible a hardship.

Tomorrow brings two viewings, another Mairie to visit and a school visit.