Because of the hot weather many patients have their doors onto the corridor open. So I hear glimpses of conversation, but don’t get to meet other patients. Most are firmly in bed; just a few, like me, pace the corridors. One of these is the woman in the room opposite, and we have become friendly, though I still don’t know her name.
She is perhaps in her fifties and works as a documentaliste in a research institute for development, so knows a lot about Africa and has travelled there a bit. I don’t think there is an English word for documentaliste. The dictionary says librarian but I would opt rather for information officer, working with and producing reports on documents rather than managing book collections.
Another coincidence: I’m currently reading Suite Francaise by irène Némirovsky and she finished another book by her yesterday.
She too leaves tomorrow, but will be back in a month to have her ovaries out. Her mother had ovarian cancer and there is a chance the current inflammation could go the same way.
Well, I’ve got through the weekend. I hope I will hear tomorrow morning whether I’m going to the Chataigniers or home.