Los acantilados de Etretat, Haute Normandie

Es extraño como se producen las asociaciones de ideas en nuestra mente...después de hablar esta mañana comentando el post de los museos con David...me ha venido a la cabeza la última carta que me mando Katherine, mi vecina de Richmond en la época de que viví con mis tios...La verdad es que gracias a ella conocí la vida nocturna londinense, y las tardes de picnic en Wimbledon...

A veces las mujeres también (no veais en este comentario, ningún sesgo machista) hacen cosas por amor...Katherine dejó todo por ir tras Stefano...(el tipico majete pero cabrón, que todos conocemos y que alguna vez también somos)...

No supe nada de ella en tres años, y de repente recibí una carta a mi oficina de Madrid, que me parece una pequeña obra de arte y que me gustaria compartir con vosotros...(cuantas cosas compartimos en este blog, otro abrazo para David y Gonzalo...)...sí no os importa la dejaré en ingles para no estropearla con una mala traducción (y así Fiona que se queja de que no hay nada en inglés, verá que no siempre es asi)

On board the Ferry, Pride of Portsmouth
In the restaurant
Tuesday, 7th December, 1999
Late afternoon

Javier Dearest,

I´m writting this letter in the little A5 notebook I bought in Venice. It has a silky blue hardback cover with marbled pattern, and lovely thick, roughly cut pages. When I´ve finished-if I ever finish-I suppose I could always cut the pages out and put them in a envelope. But there wouldn´t be much point , would there? Anyway, it hasn´t got off to a flying start. Rather self-indulgent so far, I´d say. You´d think I´d know how to write you, after the thousands and thousands of words We´ve written for years.But somehow every new letter to you feels like the first one.

When I sat down on that bench high on the chalk cliffs above Etretat I hadn´t even decided whether it was you I was going to write to, or Stefano. But I chose you. Aren´t you proud of me? You see I´m determined that I´m not going to go down that road.I promised myself that I wouldn´t contact him, and a promise to yourself is the most binding of all.It´s difficult, because there hasn´t beena day for four months when we haven´t spoken or emailed or at least texted. That kind of habits is hard to break. But I know it will get better. This is the cold turkey period.

Looking at my mobile sitting on the table next to the coffee, I feel like an ex-smoker having a packet of fags dangled in front of her nose.It would be so easy to text him. He taught me how to send text menssages, after all. But that would be a crazy thing to do.

He´d hate me for it, anyway. And I´m scared of him starting to hate me-really scared. That scares me more that anything. Silly, isn´t it? what difference does it make, if I´m not going to see him again.

I´ll make a list. Making a list is always a good displacement activity

"Lessons I´ve learned from the Stefano disaster:"

1. Married men rarely leaves their wives and daugthers for single women in their late thirties
2. You can´t still be having an affair with someone, even if you´re not having sex
3. ....
I can´t think of a number three. Even so that´s not bad going. Both lessons are important. They´ll stand me in good stead, the next time something like this happens. Or rather they ´ll help me to make sure (I hope) that there won´t be a next time.

Well, that looks good, on paper - especially this expensive thick, creamy, Venetian paper. But I remember a line that your uncle Paul always used to quote me. Some crusty old pillar of the British establishment who said, in his dotage."Yes -I´ve learned from my mistakes, and I´m sure I could repeat them perfectly". Ha ha That will probably be me.

Preciosa verdad...solo unas pequeñas anotaciones, Etretat está sólo a unos 15 km de Honfleur, ¿será que es verdad que existen zonas en el mundo donde el romanticismo se respira de forma más intensa?
"Text him" es la expresión inglesa que se usa para decir que mandas Sms...me parece más ilustrativa que la nuestra de mensajear...

"cold turkey period" es una expresión empleada para referirse "al mono"...


Saludos espumosos