Our move to France has been organised with almost military precision. Even an operation on my foot this week has had to fit in with our schedule.
With just over a week to go until we move to Lille, timing is everything.
On Monday, we returned from our holiday in Italy… and by 7.30 on Tuesday morning I was flat on my back, in a hospital gown, ready to have my foot cut open.
Morton’s neuroma is the condition I have had. It’s a hardening of the tissue in parts of the foot. Although that may sound a trifle, it made walking distances excruciatingly painful.
Just getting from one wine bar to the next had become a real challenge.
I’ve been hobbling around since the operation. My foot is more tender – and a lot bloodier – than I was expecting.
Nevertheless, we are on a countdown, so I’ve arranged to have the stitches taken out on the morning of Tuesday week – and we catch the ferry in the afternoon.
Our tenants will move into our Brighton house the following day. They’re a nursery school teacher and a nurse. I’ve met them both and they seem very sensible, which is an ideal quality in a tenant.
“One way or another, we’ll be knee-deep in knick-knacks the weekend of the braderie”
The removal company are set to deliver our furniture to us on the Wednesday morning. We didn’t dare leave it any later – Lille’s famous braderie is the following weekend. This huge annual street market attracts some 2 million people to the city.
What’s more our new home is slap bang in the middle of it all. At one end of our street we have Place de la République and at the other Place Sébastopol.
One way or another, I reckon we’ll be knee-deep in knick-knacks the weekend of the braderie – be it inside our home or in the streets outside.