So... no baby yet. If it's not here by Wednesday they're going to get the jump leads out I think. Isobel was induced, too - she came out at a whopping 4.2kg.

Talking of Isobel, she's starting a dance class next week. Here in France nothing is simple, though. So when we signed her up for the year we didn't just hand over a cheque: we had to show her certificate of accident insurance (nobody likes insurance the way the French like insurance) and, best of all, a certificate from her doctor to say that she's fit to partake in the activity.

Once you realise that all this is aimed at keeping people in jobs, it's all completely understandable, though - and it's how France works.

There's a chain of electrical goods shops here called Darty, which is I think the same group as Comet in the UK. Shopping there is like shopping in the Soviet Union, only with plasma tellies instead of pairs of right-footed boots. You get an assistant (eventually) who explains the product to you, then when you've decided to buy he'll sit you down and give you a chit, which you take to the window in front of the stock room. There a bunch of disinterested men are sitting talking about some girl one of them would liek to think he copped a feel of last night. Eventually one of them will take your chit and look at it as if it were something he found on the bottom of his shoe, and shuffle off into the stockroom.

Whole geological ages will pass, and eventually the guy returns with something that's almost, but not quite what you wanted. You'll point out that the combination waffle-iron and hair straightener he's offering you isn't in fact the washing machine you ordered, he'll sigh and then you're back where you started. This may happen two or three times.

And then you're ready to pay.