As Kieran’s going to the Isle of Man with my brother to watch some motorbike races at the end of the month, he began the process of registering his bike in France over two months ago, so he can legally ride it in Britain. Between French bureaucracy (every bit as bad as it’s cracked up to be) and the French habit of closing things down for the whole of August while people go on holiday, it’s been an extremely fraught process. This time yesterday, having dismissed the ideas of a) him riding pillion on my brother’s bike (he looked horrified that I’d even suggested something so completely uncool), b) hiring a bike in the UK (too expensive) or even c)  sticking false plates on his bike (I put my foot down at that one), we really thought he’d have to cancel the whole trip. However, a clutching-at-straws trip to the garage this morning paid off; he now has his carte grise and French number plates, not to mention a huge smile, and it’s all legal.

When not on the phone or the computer trying to sort that out, he and Nick have been hard at work removing the old kitchen; we’ve moved into the arriere cuisine temporarily, while they install the new kitchen, which I hope will be ready for October as I want to start teaching here instead of going to other people’s homes to do classes, which costs a fortune in fuel (not reclaimable) and takes up hours of my time. The electrician is back from his holidays now, so he’s made a start on the next bit of wiring in the new house, so it’s all moving on.