Today I attempt to get some bits and pieces to fix the weather station which is broken. It would appear the power supply is fucked as I've checked everything but it's just not working. I think some cutesy little animal has probably eaten through the cable and had a bit of a surprise. I'll go to the Bricomarche in Nontron tomorrow and see what I can pick up.

Out with Brian and Xavier in the evening. We went to Traxx initially and gorgeous hunky Christophe was there. Christophe has a thing about firemen so he was quite amused by my Sapeurs-Pompiers teeshirt. The whole "make like a fireman" gag amused the rest of the bar as well. I was proud of my effort.

I can't work out what's going on there, anyway. He's clearly giving me the eye but he's being very very hard to get. Perhaps he's just being a touchy-feel French man? I'm just picking up on silly things; everyone else gets cheek kisses, I get lip treament - things like that. Hm. We'll see.

After Traxx we decided we'd go to Panthère Rose, only to learn that the council in Limoges has started telling all bars/clubs and things to close at 2am (not sure why, I didn't understand the petition although I signed it). All that was left, therefore, was The Purple Parrot (!) - a very straight club indeed. We went there with some chicken we'd acquired (surely not) and felt a bit as if we didn't like it as we were arriving.

I had a couple of people come up and ask if I was a fireman, so I told them no. That then confused them as apparently Sapeurs-Pompiers teeshirts are actually reserved for firemen in France so it's a bit naughty (read illegal, from what I could understand) to wear them. Most people were fine about it, but there were a couple of straight lads who took offence. Perhaps if someone had told me this before I got on stage and did YMCA and It's Raining Men (both fine performances, I thought) I could've kept a lower profile. Ah well.

Eventually the lot from Traxx arrived and we all danced and squealed at each other. I have a tactic: make friends with the girls. That way, they love you and you get to meet lots of cute people. Hunk Christophe was there and I was very flirty and pissed and molested him a lot. He didn't tell me to stop, so that's probably good. They kept me well lubricated all evening, with various alcoholic concoctions which went down verynicelyindeedthankyou.

One bloke came up and said he didn't like me (how nice) and that I shouldn't talk to him. My non-comprehension didn't help, of course, because I asked him to repeat himself about four times because I was pissed and not quite getting the gist. Eventually Xavier came and translated and he thought we were taking the piss, so got a bit hoity-toity. Anyway, he started fluffing up and suddenly I was surrounded by a ring of gay barmen telling him to back off. Next thing I know, three security men had lept over the bar and ejected him. Cool!

So that was my evening. We left at some ridiculous hour (after having snogged the chicken and the barman in the middle of the most heterosexual dancefloor I've ever been on), took Christophe home and then staggered on to La Brousse. I passed out on the back seat.