I'd like to apologise for the photos, by the way. They're not particularly fresh, but I was going through the archives and thought you might like to see some from Burgundy, in 2008. And even if you don't, whose blog is it anyway? I think they're nice.
As I mentioned, Margo's off in the Tarn and Jeremy, as usual (because I'd got meat for two out of the freezer) decided to head off and spend the night with a friend at Montmélian. So I'm on my own, and after a sad solitary meal of muffins topped with scrambled eggs, salad and a bit of foie gras, I headed down to the garden to become one with the hammock, and try to get excited about getting this bloody STN screen driver for WinCE done. Not easy, especially at 10pm on a Friday night flopped in a hammock with a glass of red close to hand.
As is my wont, it being a Saturday, I was roaming around the aisles in Carrefour doing the indispensable supermarket shopping (2-litre bottles of milk, for example, and if I want pork I'm not going to be able to get it from M. Bourraoui the halal butcher, am I?) and as I whipped past the ladies lingerie department (always slow down for that) I could not but notice the little sign indicating that here was where you would find "néo-jeanerie". Not only is it one of the more disgusting neologisms I've come across in some time, I've absolutely no idea what it could possibly mean. It involves "new", and "jeans", but apart from that I'm no wiser. If they're trying to say that you can buy new jeans here, that seems pretty much a no-brainer because very few people I know go to a supermarket to buy old or second-hand jeans. Could they perhaps be beyond jeans? (Whatever that would make them.) Or perhaps the advertising people just stuck one joss-stick too many up the left nostril, accidentally dislodging brain.
Snoring peacefully at my desk now, having spent some time getting another bootable Linux USB key ready for use and then using it, booting up a client's PC and resetting the account that I'd accidentally managed to lock by taking more than three tries to log on. (Silly buggers for using Swiss keyboards: of course the keys are all in the wrong places.) They could have just given me the administrator password, but apparently that's verboten - whereas using the handy little chntpw utility is not. Go figure.
Anyway, I suppose I'd better get a bit more work done: doubt I'll do much tomorrow as I have to head of to Geneva to pick up Mal. Bye!