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Because it's more or less spring here. The weather was so beautiful yesterday that I walked down to the tennis court (takes about 50 minutes) a little early, to sit there and have coffee in the sun before we started our two-hour lesson. The air was still cool by then, but I'd done well to put on a sleeveless top. The jacket came off after about 5 minutes' playing and stayed off. Also, I'd brought another top plus wrap-around cardigan so I could get changed after we finished.
Irene had gone to the gym, and we met at Gino's, the Italian restaurant in the city center, where we had lunch on the terrace. Sitting in the shade in short sleeves, and not shivering. No idea how long this is going to last, but I'll certainly enjoy every minute of it. So today there'll be the walk down to the other tennis court (takes about the same time), an hour of running, and then two hours of tennis. And today I'm not going to be an idiot and have a gin-and-tonic after returning home, because that leads to a five-hour coma on the couch, which in turn means a screwed-up sleeping pattern.
Irene and I had tickets for yesterday's "Nutcracker" at the opera -- the fact that Oliver, the director, had offered the embassy 10 free tickets ought to have told me right away that something wasn't quite right. Fortunately boss and had lunch with him on Friday, and he mentioned that the music wasn't going to be live but from a CD. So we forewent the pleasure of watching a not-so-good corps de ballet hopping around to canned music and instead watched the last two episodes of Life on Mars 2. And then the first three of How I Met Your Mother 1, because I wanted to get Irene addicted. I think I might have succeeded.
And now a bit of my very own brand of paranoia -- you tell me if you wouldn't become slightly paranoid by contemplating these facts:
Fact 1: I first saw Carla, the temporary replacement for Mr H's personal assistant who was on maternity leave, at the beginning of July. That was the flamenco evening at the opera; she arrived together with Mr H, and my first thought was that she was his girlfriend. (found out that she was the assistant two or three days after that)
Fact 2: In spite of this assumption I quite liked her; we met socially a few times and really hit it off at a lunch on 1 October.
Fact 3: At that lunch, or rather while we were enjoying a cigarette out in the courtyard, the memorable "Mr H? Nooooo, ewwww!" moment occurred.
Fact 4: We had our late lunch/early dinner about two weeks after that, i.e. on the day I'd successfully asked Mr H out and, in my total euphoria, told her about it, sure in the knowledge that Mr H was nooooo, ewwwwww.
Fact 5: Since then, I've only seen her in passing, because first she got food poisoning/a virus, and then she caught the same virus that spoiled Janine's stay here. Or so she said. (Yes, this is the point where the paranoia starts)
Fact 6: She had lunch on Wednesday with a colleague at the same place where Alexandra and I were having lunch, and we agreed (as we had previously done by email) on her getting back to me on Friday re. coffee. She didn't, though, and has remained silent up till now.
Fact 7: Here we're entering paranoia country for good -- the friend who works for [...] has repeatedly hinted that Carla has something going with the boss. He's not the most reliable of sources, not least because he hates Mr H and thinks Carla is a slut, but...
Fact 8: Mr H hasn't responded to my last email, or called, or indeed given any proof of being alive, not to mention interested (*cue hollow lughter*)
You see where this is going, don't you?
I might have made a first-rate idiot of myself.
The thought doesn't exactly fill me with joy.
There is absolutely no way to find out.
But it's another damned good reason for me to 1) not contact Carla for the time being, 2) be very, very cautious if/when she contacts me, 3) stay away from Mr H, Carla and pretty much all of [...] like the devil from holy water.
Irene had gone to the gym, and we met at Gino's, the Italian restaurant in the city center, where we had lunch on the terrace. Sitting in the shade in short sleeves, and not shivering. No idea how long this is going to last, but I'll certainly enjoy every minute of it. So today there'll be the walk down to the other tennis court (takes about the same time), an hour of running, and then two hours of tennis. And today I'm not going to be an idiot and have a gin-and-tonic after returning home, because that leads to a five-hour coma on the couch, which in turn means a screwed-up sleeping pattern.
Irene and I had tickets for yesterday's "Nutcracker" at the opera -- the fact that Oliver, the director, had offered the embassy 10 free tickets ought to have told me right away that something wasn't quite right. Fortunately boss and had lunch with him on Friday, and he mentioned that the music wasn't going to be live but from a CD. So we forewent the pleasure of watching a not-so-good corps de ballet hopping around to canned music and instead watched the last two episodes of Life on Mars 2. And then the first three of How I Met Your Mother 1, because I wanted to get Irene addicted. I think I might have succeeded.
And now a bit of my very own brand of paranoia -- you tell me if you wouldn't become slightly paranoid by contemplating these facts:
Fact 1: I first saw Carla, the temporary replacement for Mr H's personal assistant who was on maternity leave, at the beginning of July. That was the flamenco evening at the opera; she arrived together with Mr H, and my first thought was that she was his girlfriend. (found out that she was the assistant two or three days after that)
Fact 2: In spite of this assumption I quite liked her; we met socially a few times and really hit it off at a lunch on 1 October.
Fact 3: At that lunch, or rather while we were enjoying a cigarette out in the courtyard, the memorable "Mr H? Nooooo, ewwww!" moment occurred.
Fact 4: We had our late lunch/early dinner about two weeks after that, i.e. on the day I'd successfully asked Mr H out and, in my total euphoria, told her about it, sure in the knowledge that Mr H was nooooo, ewwwwww.
Fact 5: Since then, I've only seen her in passing, because first she got food poisoning/a virus, and then she caught the same virus that spoiled Janine's stay here. Or so she said. (Yes, this is the point where the paranoia starts)
Fact 6: She had lunch on Wednesday with a colleague at the same place where Alexandra and I were having lunch, and we agreed (as we had previously done by email) on her getting back to me on Friday re. coffee. She didn't, though, and has remained silent up till now.
Fact 7: Here we're entering paranoia country for good -- the friend who works for [...] has repeatedly hinted that Carla has something going with the boss. He's not the most reliable of sources, not least because he hates Mr H and thinks Carla is a slut, but...
Fact 8: Mr H hasn't responded to my last email, or called, or indeed given any proof of being alive, not to mention interested (*cue hollow lughter*)
You see where this is going, don't you?
I might have made a first-rate idiot of myself.
The thought doesn't exactly fill me with joy.
There is absolutely no way to find out.
But it's another damned good reason for me to 1) not contact Carla for the time being, 2) be very, very cautious if/when she contacts me, 3) stay away from Mr H, Carla and pretty much all of [...] like the devil from holy water.
