No subject, really

First of all, thanks for the thoughtful comments on last night's post. I'd originally intended to disable comments, but forgot. So I'm very glad nobody thought I was being gooey and left a rude comment.
All things considered, I'm OK. I'm rather surprised at how OK I'm feeling -- maybe I just needed to write this down. "This" being the by no means easy confession re. age, dreams and wishes. Of course being emotionally (and let's not forget physically) needy is nothing to be ashamed of, but saying it out loud or even writing it down isn't easy.
Clarification for trickofthedark : no he's not really a Ron/Hermione shipper. That was merely shiv5468 's metaphor for not-so-obvious deficiencies.
Anyway, there were a few rather amusing moments, which I'd like to record, if only to look at them later with an indulgent smile. (Or growling dangerously, who knows)

Pinar, my Turkish counterpart who started to play tennis a year ago (with Elena, too), and I were deliberating whether to participate in the diplomatic tournament that is going to take place on 9/10 October -- were we good enough, did we really want to look silly in front of everybody etc.
Mr H: Tell you what, we simply play a kind of mixed double, meaning Pinar, Susanne, me and Elena, and then we'll se how good you are.
Then the conversation drifted into other directions, and when we were talking cooking and food, he said, "One of these days I'm going to prepare a sea bass for you."
Me: Erm, what makes your sea bass so special, I mean of course apart from the fact that it was you who cooked it?
Mr H: You'll see. You'll never eat sea bass again anywhere else after that.
Me: Is that a death threat or a promise?
Mr H: *looks mysterious*
Me: I think I've got a great idea. Why don't you prepare the imaginary sea bass after the imaginary tennis?
I think he understood exactly what I meant. Good. *grins evilly*

We talk tennis, and he tries to convince me that playing on a synthetic court is bad.
Me: OK, granted, it might be a bit hard on the knees, but IMO it's an adavantage to be at home on both clay and synthetic courts.
Mr H: Well, that might be true for a top player like you, but with my moderate abilities it's really not necessary.
Me, glaring daggers: Don't take this the wrong way, but of course the heavier you are, I mean in absolute terms, the harder it's on your knees. And I daresay you're heavier than me, unless you're made of styrofoam.
Me H, pouting: Well, thank you.
Me, sweetly: But of course you might not be heavier than I in relative terms. Does that soften the blow?
 

All in all it was a very pleasant evening, and the conversation covered a surprising variety of topics. It never ceases to amaze me how little importance nationality, creed, gender etc. really have in a group of people from different cultural backgrounds but who work in similar jobs and who care more about discussion, exchange of opinions etc. than about being right or judging. (Although it probably didn't hurt that none of us is an ardent fan of the pope)

I'm getting a bit tired now, but have been holding up very well till so far, considering that I didn't get more sleep than the night before. Meeting with a nice lady from the university at 3 -- at a café, not at the embassy -- tennis from 5 to 6.30, and tonight I'm going to stay home.

Tomorrow tennis and running in the late morning, and in the afternoon I'll be going to Kosovo with Stefan and Dan, the society slave, because we've been invited to the Change of Command ceremony at the KFOR camp. Stefan and I have succeeded in persuading Dan into wearing his German uniform (he's an Austrian-German double citizen and did his military service with the German navy), although our hopes for seeing him wear that ridiculous bow tie again might be shattered, because I have a suspicion that the bow tie merely goes with the gala uniform.

Still haven't started writing the quarterly report, so I'll have to do that on Monday, when I'll hopefully be rested. I'm not as dead today as I was yesterday, but the brain isn't up to report-writing.