Bin day

A largely admin day, including bin admin.

My neighbours complained so mightily to the mayor about the state of the communal bins (they are near a main road and so frequently used by passing builders who don't want to pay to dump stuff at the tip, that we often couldn't get our bags in) that she has made a deal with the bin organisation for us to have individual collections.  But turns out (I discovered this today) we have to buy our own bins.  I have found cheaper than this - thankfully...  But I am wondering if I can demand a second referendum on Communal Bin-exit on the basis that we did not have this information at the time...

I also discovered that we are, apparently, getting an internet upgrade.  Some day.  Possibly this year.  To either 3 or 8 or 20 or 200 Mbps (most likely 3 or 8).  Better than the 0.9 we currently have, but nowhere near the impossible level stated as the goal for 'the whole of France' (by which they mean the 85% of folk who live in big towns).  We shall see.

This evening CheeseLady came over, ostensibly for some help with her English law course, but mainly just for a chat, I think.  Then there was a very long email to write to all my neighbours about my meeting with the mayor, which I was deputed to do as I'm the only member of our little community she's on speaking terms with.  She loves me because I help at the school and go (nearly) every year to the 11 November ceremony - and also because all my neighbours stood against her at the last election and things got a bit shouty.

Now I must prepare for a big meeting tomorrow with the school doctor for our sector, to put in place a proper plan for CarbBoy's dyslexia (and the other thing he has that I don't know how to say in English - dysorthographia?) Currently he has a temporary plan made up by his school, but this is a much bigger deal.  I'm glad they're being helpful and everything, but I wish not every bit of my life had to involve a one hour conversation in French while I have a bad cold.  Also, she has sent me a huge list of documents to bring - none of which I have.  Perhaps I'll take his NHS notes.  Nothing to do with his dyslexia, but just to prove that the British system does bits of paper too - I sometimes feel I am being pitied for not having a huge box of files to bring to every meeting.  

More bizarre work for me to do for Mr B tomorrow.

And I really probably shouldn't ignore the ironing any more.