Pharmacists in Nice are better than Boots...

Lovely people, pharmacists. All sympathetic and soothing of my hypochondria - and I now have waterproof giant plasters (unfortunately not ones with cartoon characters on, for extra awesomeness) so I can even go swimming. And much pain - alcohol wipes for disinfecting things are *brutal*.

We're going to sign our contract today, so as of tomorrow when the builders supposedly finish, we should have a brand new flat! And we can get a bank account and register with the local council and all those good and sensible things we need to do before everyone goes on holiday at the beginning of August.

I haven't forgotten about the European Petanque Championships (Sweden has a petanque team; I bet you didn't know that. They won, too...) but this blog is all about me, and right now, my aching knee is the centre of my world. I had forgotten the grimness of the French police, too - walking back from the beach, they were chasing some poor guy, and started beating him up in front of the hotel. He might have done something to deserve it, but I somehow doubt anyone deserves that...

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