Home town

Day out in Toulouse. Visiting a walking city with terrible parking in a large car full of folk who don't want to walk was never going to be fabulous. But we managed our expectations well and the day over-delivered in several ways.

Lunch in the main square was in the restaurant where I met a bunch of local blippers for the first time a few years ago, and even though I was unconvinced that eating inside was a good move, we were treated like kings and given a wonderful meal. Even with Mrs B senior's wilful misunderstanding of the menu system, we muddled through. And CarbBoy enchanted the head waiter with his hat spinning trick.

And I took a long look back and thought of Chaiselongue, a friend I felt I already knew well when we met here for what I blithely assumed would be the first of many times.

Later, the project that can now speak its name lurched closer to an unexpectedly positive conclusion. After several years we have almost finally sold our beautiful house in Scotland. Missives concluded today (equivalent of exchange of contracts for English readers), and all being well we will no longer have 2 houses in 10 days time. So, very soon, Toulouse will be our proper home town. We were a day from the same point this time last year when the buyers pulled out, so the last few days have been rather tense with the buyers incommunicado - particularly since I had to pay an obscene amount of money to our movers yesterday to secure our moving date.

Other surprising news was the tearfully grateful way the senior Bs accepted our gift to them of an iPad - though seeing as how it was filled with all their favourite music and with photos of the kids, I suppose I shouldn't be so surprised.

I do like when a day sneaks up on you like that.

(I 'm glossing over CarbBoy's monumental sulk when, in a terrible parenting moment, I showed everyone a photo of him in a pink tutu.)