Dearest Mysterious and Lovely Benefactress!

First thing I saw upon arriving at orifice: a BOOK-shaped parcel graced with your fair handwriting! Never mind that it took my trembling hands twenty full minutes (and two broken nails) to wrench off the surely over-zealous layers of sticky tape ... Anyway, I can always send you the bill from my Nail Repair Salon down the village, can't I?

Truly, lovely Russell Brand's autobiog will help take my mind off my zombie-like state of fatigue and the overwork I will surely incur tonight. You are Sweetness Incarnate!

Poor old Popo is doubtless engaged in a battle of wills with her father over The Taking of The Yucky Medicine, as we speak. I legged it out of there as soon as he got back from the emergency pharmacy! I did the nightime tepid baths, the soothing of the fevered brow, the preparing of the special little soups and miniscule pieces of fruit, the fetching and carrying of books, yoghurt, CDs, pens and paper etc., etc., etc. for the invalid, so HE can do the Battle of the Yucky Medicine. It's only right.

Muchos grateful besos,
Antipo

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P.S. All rural pharmacies in France are closed on Sunday and Monday from 9 am to 12 midday. But each pharmacy within a region takes a turn at being the Emergency Pharmacy to be open after hours. You have to ring the local police station to find out which one it is. They sent us to the wrong one! Bastards!