We're nearly there, finally packing our bags - just a car-load to start with - and heading from London to Switzerland to sign for our house before knocking part of it down and doing major renovations. Downstairs is currently a bar/40 seat restaurant, complete with waggon wheel chandeliers. I'm told they'll have to go, as will the bar, which even the keenest drinker would find hard to love in their sitting room (pics to come later). Our first winter will be heated by burning the old tables and chairs. We'll also hope for some funds from a yard-sale featuring scores of fondue sets and raclette machines, though that's a long shot - I suspect every local gets a set on their first birthday and I can't imagine anyone needing a spare. Then there are so many plates that we won't have to wash up for a year. Or we could save them for a Greek night, or possibly for the first visit of my nieces and nephews, which might amount to the same thing in crockery-survival terms. But it's not as though we'll be sitting around not washing up and getting chilly anyway - there will be much skiing to be done, which is the whole point of coming here.