Two steps forward, one step back

The news from Another Place is encouraging: Pierre tells me that he and Pierre #2 have applied two layers of lime render to the base of the side wall, and will be doing the third during the current week, though we've heard that before.  He has done some more leak chasing around the new bathroom window and assures me it's watertight.  That's good news, given the torrential rain of recent weeks: at one point the river rose by over 4 metres, which is over half way to panic stations.  
Back here at Forges-l'Evêque the sitting room is festooned with cards sending greetings and good wishes from friends round the world.  The parcels are stacking up by the Christmas tree, following lots of on-line ordering.  We did shop briefly yesterday, but browsing for inspiration soon got me tired and grizzly, so I've suggested a pause for thought and probably more on-line ordering.  

Two of the dining room windows are still decorated with condensation between the panes.  I had a call last week from JokersЯUs Home Improvements, asking whether they could come and measure for the replacements - a third time.  Evidently visitor #2, who arrived with replacement units of quite the wrong size and shape, has gone sick, taking his notebook with him.  Deep sigh.

The social season trickles on: we were at the annual Punch and Carols party at Ginny and Richard's on Sunday, and sang ourselves hoarse as usual.  We left at half-time to catch our bus and train home - it's a shame that, for less than two hours' worth of party, we have over four hours of travelling by car, train, bus and Shanks's pony. 

The new London buses are pretty impressive, as they'd want to be at a million a pop.  The best thing about them is that I don't have to pay, but I get a sense that that little privilege of decrepitude is unlikely to persist.  Still, by the time it's abolished, my state pension will take the strain instead.  I wonder if we're the only indigenous Brits to use the buses.  The languages being spoken round about us were, I think, Russian, Japanese, Arabic and Italian.  Last time I was in London, two fellow bus passengers were arguing over the phone in voluble Portuguese, my grasp of which couldn't tell me whether with each other or third parties.  The trains are less congenial late in the evening: on Sunday we had a bunch of guffawing young people with us all the way, and our neighbour across the way had certainly been at the ale.  So I felt less bad about breathing mulled wine and egg sandwich fumes at him.  

We're pretty much geared up for entertaining this coming weekend: we're doing wine and nibbles for the neighbours on Sunday evening.  There's still the booze to buy, but I shall be near an appropriate outlet later today.  The freezers are groaning under the weight of blinis, pizza and sausage rolls, we hope in sufficient quantities. 

Cinema yesterday: Paddington.  Anthropomorphic, camp, sentimental rubbish.  We loved it!