He knew I didn’t like gaudy celebrations (no banners or balloons), that cards were a waste of paper (no card), that I did love home cooking (oyster ...ushroom terrine), but didn’t love chocolate desserts (strawberry and prosecco sorbet). He hadn’t specifically said that this was my gift, but he had that look as though he were keeping something from me. He was not doing well at concealing it and at times he looked physically awkward, if not uncomfortable. At those times, I had to refrain from. The large rocks that gave the beach its character, round and smooth from thousands of years of tidal erosion, became soft round buttocks. The clouds that hung in a deep blue sky became milky white breasts. And the bushes became…well, bushes. Could an alcoholic concentrate on his work if he knew that there was an ice cold beer in the lunch-room refridgerator? I rest my case. There was nothing for it but to pay Vanessa a visit. Maybe if I saw enough of her I would get bored and be able to return. More

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