As I wander around this wreck of a town where people never speak aloud, with its ivory towers and its plastic flowers I wish I was back in 1981.

André had decided that we would go to Bordeaux tomorrow, so we could visit Michael on two consecutive days, and still use our tickets for the opera.

I spent the day pottering about, doing this and that and talking to people on the phone. I walked around town for a while, and kept thinking about Michael. I found it hard to keep myself motivated, so I wrote out a list of ‘things to do’ and kept myself busy by working through it. Stupid stuff like ‘take empty bottles to bottle bank’, ‘post card’, ‘pack for Bordeaux’. It helped keep me focussed.

Later this evening I was so pleased to hear, via Chicago (!), that Michael had briefly woken up, and the signs for recovery are good. I had an early night, setting my alarm to be up early in the morning.