The Campanile in Ferney-Voltaire was disappointing - no mean feat for an address of which one already has modest expectations. The room was not very clean. No problem with the linen, if the towels were frayed and clearly well-worn. The skirting board was in grave need of a dose of sugar soap and a lick of paint, perhaps because, the room being right by the disabled drivers' parking slot, of scuffing by wheelchairs. The textured plaster on the walls was cracked and bulging in places. Sleep was somewhat elusive, but at least the discreet air conditioning kept the room temperature bearable on what was a pretty hot night, and the walk-in shower was excellent. The breakfast spread was adequate if meagre. There was broken glass on the dining room floor by my seat. Overall, rather poor value for money.
With a little pre-journey research, and some help from Dotty, we found the MediaMarkt in Meyrin easily enough, and stood and watched aircraft taking off until the shop opened its doors. A characteristically Swiss experience: the salesman, on taking a decent order within seconds of opening and without the need to advise a punter who knew what he wanted, waived the software pre-installation charge, and stripped the corresponding label off the package. The cashier felt obliged to call the salesman to make sure I hadn't taken it off myself, thus making me feel like one presumed dishonest. The next peculiarity of MediaMarkt is that they only accept cash, or Maestro or Poste cards, neither of which I have. After a long and frustrating dialogue with the ATM, I managed to cobble together the necessary cash from the personal, housekeeping and French accounts to buy the new laptop - yet again. The price one pays for a preferred keyboard, eh?
Getting through Geneva was rather slow. The traffic lights are obviously programmed to deter private motorists. Numerous buses roared past as we waited at four or five red lights. Dotty persuaded us to do the last bit on the motorway, and we'll see in due course whether the authorities noticed that I hadn't paid the £32 to use the same for the 15 minutes we spent on them. The drive down the valleys to Valence is quite spectacular in places, with the vast rock faces of the Chartreuse and the Vercors to either side. Valence itself was slow as usual, but had nothing on the congestion of the northbound A7 and eastbound A9 We were glad to be heading south and west. I'll spare you the details of the ugly and incompetent driving en route. Although the journey took only about six hours, it was quite exhausting. The car purred along without protest and, thanks in part to a lively mistral, pretty economically for a largish brick of bodywork cruising at 130 kph.
As is so often the way, the bright sunshine and 35° temperatures had given way to threatening leaden skies and about 25° by the time we reached the Corbières. I think the bad weather was moving south, so we didn't get the soaking we expected. Or not yet. No surprises on arriving home, fortunately, and having stocked up in Lézigzag on the way in, we had a quiet evening at home.
Well, quiet except for the occasional tirade of vile language as I set up the new laptop. This process has continued today, as I transfer my documents and photographs from the various USB sticks to the new hard disk. The DVD drive is very noisy, but photoshop seems to have installed satisfactorily, and the local printer is working. The new MS Office package seems to have its own views on fonts, however, so I shall have to review most of my saved templates. We'd think that, for the rather cynical £120 bill for replacing something we've already paid for, they'd try to make life easier, wouldn't you? And thus we would under-estimate the Gates cash generator.
After replenishing essential supplies at the Caves of St-Laurent and Camplong this morning, we aimed to return home over the hill from Ribaute, but were stopped by a crush barrier which announced a total prohibition on driving, cycling, walking, hopping, skipping or jumping in the massif. This is because of the fire risk, and the prohibited area, I now learn, stretches from Boutenac to Lagrasse. A German couple were on foot just behind us as we reached the barrier, and the dialogue that followed suggested that I can just about keep it up in basic German, which is a comfort. As I write, the firefighting Trackers drone overhead, watching for smoke, I think, rather than dealing with fires. The Trackers, by the way, are now pretty ancient: at well over 50 years old, they need replacing, and I think the Sécurité Civile is trying to persuade Bombardier to re-open the Canadair flying boat production line. The Trackers seem now to be heading back over us to Carcassonne. I think the fire insurance is up to date...
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