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Back from the doctor’s

It turns out that Hamish has got a bronchial infection. He has a baby inhaler (looks like a weapon from Star Wars!), suppositories and syrup, and 8 sessions of physio for clapping, or something like that. It loosens the phlegm apparently by clapping and massaging the chest. He had a session tonight and has another one tomorrow morning.

But what about me? Well, I took my guitar to a guy in France to have the pickup looked at – it’s not working right. He had to keep the guitar, which is fine, but what wasn’t fine is that it took me two hours to drive the 30-minute journey home. In fact, I didn’t even come home in the end as I decided that the traffic was so bad that I might as well just go and wait at the forest creche to pick up Freya. And it’s just as well I did, for if I had have come home, I would have got caught in the traffic taking my secret backroad to Esch – I guess it wasn’t so secret after all. It’s the worst traffic I’ve ever seen, all because they’d shut off a bit of the motorway. For what, I don’t know – most likely nothing at all, judging from past lane closures I’ve encountered. It really is the most frustrating country to drive in that I’ve ever had the misfortune to, well, to drive in. It would make a good topic for a public blog post! Maybe I’ll do just that.

Oh, and I was listening to one of the Song of Ice and Fire books in the car. Awesome!