Stocktake

at Maison de la Bible, so it's all hands to the pumps.

We had these funky handheld scanners to scan the barcode on each item, then you had to poke ineffectually at the screen with a minuscule stylus to enter the quantity of each item, be it a book, cd, etc...

Thankfully I discovered that instead of poking around with the minuscule stylus you could press tiny buttons to exactly the sam effect, which speeded up the job remarkably.

Then we scuttled off to a café round the corner for lunch together - confit de canard with a mound of haricots verts cooked with garlic and some very tasty potatoes.

After lunch I was scheduled to go to the ex-pats creative writing group - yes I know. It's my second time to go and ... well ... We are under the gentle tutelage of a published author who is very affirming and encouraging. My work of art this month was the proof that a stitch in time does not save nine, in the form of a detective forced to stitch up a murderer by planting a gun in his washing machine in order to meet his quota of arrests and so save his job, but being rewarded for his pains with a vicious head-butt requiring 9 sutures at the local A&E.

For next month our task is a descriptive passage with no adjectives.

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