Friday 12th August

~ Dr Ban, the Asian rheumatolgist, is, by general consent, the best in the business hereabouts.  Fierce and delicate and direct, he manipulates Tom's arms and shoulders rapidly. 

'This way now. Pain? Pain now?'   

His English is so unhesitating, curt and quickfire that there's no question of trying to stay in French.  He is warm and kindly too, pats and squeezes our hands and shoulders reassuringly, is funny and responsive.  He drives the dreaded cortisone jab straight down into Tom's shoulder from the top into the socket so quickly and lightly that it is barely felt. 

' Hey Mrs Kempton, you don't want to watch? You can watch, it's a movie: Mr Kempton and the Needle!'

The phone goes mid-injection.

'Oh that'll be President Sarkozy.  He needs me.'

'He's heard you're the best too, then?'

'That's it.'

It's done, at last.  Let's hope it's fixed it. 

~ Stopping at the top of the hill above Hénon, it's very clear, and the dark blue band of the sea in the distance never fails to steady and lift the spirits.

~ Pink water lily in the pond, which needs clearing.  Oddly it's a task I enjoy so much I tend to put it off, thinking there must be something more disagreeable I should do first, which is a little hard on the fish who must be gasping for some more oxygen to the surface.  Thanks for the encouragement to keep on photographing flowers; the water lilies just clamour for it every time.