St Alex of Cannes

Well, now I know what it's like - existing on a Life Support Machine. You're lying there, glad to be alive, but it's not exactly a whole lot of fun. I don't want you to think that I'm getting obsessive about this, but at midnight tonight, at the end of my third day, there will be 35 days, 14 hours and 20 minutes, before I will have completed my pledge not to drink before the next meeting with my nutritionist. Which also reminds me, that I will need to clear a couple of days after the meeting because the hangover will last at least that long. As I said, I'm not obsessive, but you will notice, that what I thought was a month, is in fact somewhat longer. She's nothing if not sneaky, the lovely Doctor and I should have paid more attention.

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Today was all about getting ready for tomorrow's trip. Tidying the garden, checking the car over and packing. This afternoon, we took a reluctant Max to his pension, in St Mamert du Gard, and left him in the capable hands of Olivier, his trainer. The house is always quiet without him and you tend to miss a 40 kilo dog trying to sit on your knee. Hey ho.

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Will cheers me up no end by mentioning that the nightly trips to the toilet might be a sign of prostate problems. Don't you think I've got enogh on plate at the moment? By the way, now that he's broken cover, Will's the one who very wisely chooses the month of February to abstain each year. February, because it has the shortest number of days! Nice one, Will.