I'll admit I've been obsessed with the ash cloud. It doesn't help that we're now trapped in a small village in France with no working automobile - the car's in the shop for a new exhaust system and the ambulance's suspension is so shot it's undriveable.
Oh wait, we've got two ancient bicycles, so that's something.
At least we're not stuck in an airport in Europe or the UK, trying to get...anywhere. Or a train station in France, though they say that strike is ending, for now.
I feel in limbo - afraid to mail anything to the US, and figuring it's pointless to get my mail sent over to me right now even though I know there's a check in there that I could use. And then there's the matter of a package that should be winging its way to me right now - are you ready? my glasses, the ones I thought I'd lost forever back in America last summer. Found, resurrected! The tracking information says, ominously, that they left US soil on April 17. After that, it's blank.
Finishing the record is imperative now, so I guess it's for the best we don't have a car to go anywhere. And the files can be transmitted via the internet, to be turned into records to sell on tour. But is there a wire we could slip ourselves into to get to America next month, if it comes to it? I was even checking on the Queen Mary. It sails from Southampton on May 15, and takes six days to reach New York. We could be just like my grandma and grandpa when they left the old country. Funny, the website doesn't show a price.
Janette, our neighbor who drives the real ambulance, said there's another volcano set to blow that's going to flood Holland and Belgium.
Jacky, another neighbor, sipped his Pernod at 11 am in the local cafe and said why would anyone ever leave the Limousin? It's perfectly placed to be out of the way of everything.