No longer in Angouleme. Not quite as sick as I was -- it was just a bad cold, I think, but the kind of bad cold that people claim as a 24 hour flu, in order to take a day off work. Now sound hoarse and chesty, but more or less like me.
The hotel I'm in is very hmmm. I'd found it through the internet, and had wanted to send people over to look at it to see if it was the kind of hotel I'd want to stay at, which never happened. I'm not sure whether that would have done any good even if it had, as I'm sure that the room they would actually have been shown would have been not up in the lift to the top floor and then all the way down the corridor to the left and then down two long flights of stairs and through the maid's closet doors and up a few more stairs and into a very very very small room indeed, in which the promised bath is a shower.
Am too pooped and too English to complain.
Turns out the Newbery's don't announce their nominees. They announce the award-winner, and between one and several "honors" books, which are essentially runners-up. Details at http://www.ala.org/alsc/nmedal.html