also, apparently, Nether Wallop

That was a slightly frenzied week, during which we packed up my dad's house, sold half of the contents, arranged for the other half to be collected by a charity group, chivvied the renovators finishing the two sets of renovations, cleaned the house intensively, cleaned his other appartment intensively, sold his car, selected a trunk full of vital personal items for shipping, threw out a metric buttload of inessentials, and said goodbye to a fair proportion of his considerable social circle in France. At least half of the above was conducted in French. I'm ... buggered, actually. The drive back from Bristol airport at lunchtime was in a sort of detached, floaty state which was rendered the more lateral by the fact that we were drifting through a fine selection of British hamlets called things like Nemphet Thrubwell, Chew Magna and Gurney Slade. Can there honestly be a place called Nemphet Thrubwell? I mean, it's on the map and everything, but I darkly suspect it of being some sort of deadpan British joke.

Mother's computer, while being infested with the kind of nanny software which refuses to let me read, among other things, comovedy and the Whatever, is speaking kindly to my camera, so therefore, photos! On broadband, too. The heady rush of broadband is only exacerbating the feeling of being slightly high. If I ever move to the UK it'll be for broadband and Doctor Who. Anyway, as promised, have a Scabby!Cat. He's rather Ounceish. Also, unimpressed. Pictures severely uncropped or otherwise primped, as the school system also refuses to allow me to install programmes, which means I am Picasaless and lost in the wilderness.