vendredi 25 février 2011

Sweet love, sweet thorn

One never seems to have time or, indeed, inclination for the incessant public flaunting of oneself expected in this modern epoch. Yet it is clear the advice of one such as I (134 long and rich years on this earth!) must be invaluable to the masses. And so one is compelled to sacrifice Time, that most precious of things, to share with you all a little of this Wisdom Gained. 

Spring has sprung here in Paris. A classically glorious time for lovers - man and beast - for optimism, for renewed purpose, darlings. Frankly, I cast orf the winter gloom almost before it had begun on the realisation - on my 134th birthday last October - that time was Of The Essence.

As many of you know I've been married to my seventh husband, Georges, for forty years and things have been, shall we say, a little more desert than oasis for the past two decades. A woman does come to understand how burning passion within cannot be left to ebb peacefully into death like an old sleeping dog, how one should grasp the mettle whilst one still has control of one's digits and, indeed, the mental cohesion to know what to do with said mettle once grasped. 

And so I have, dears! I have harnessed the Internet Beast, have branched out, socially speaking, to find myself not one Lover, but two! Hallelujah, God bless Cyberspace and all who sail her murky waters. So much easier than having to suffer another of dear Hugo's match-making balls.

I shall tell you more about the Fortunate Two in due course, but for now it should suffice to offer a word of warning: yes, darlings, the internet is a wonderful invention for those weary of tromping the high street, but when shopping for Lovers one must remember here in Cyberspace ebay and Fortnum & Mason sit cheek by jowl in a fashion which would never be tolerated in Real Life. Be warned, my dears.

Personally I struck lucky in finding James and Sebastian. Both utterly charming men and absolutely besotted with yours truly. The decision to take two Lovers, I should point out, is not borne of greed but SENSIBILITY. One Lover is dangerous. This I know only too well as my heart was stolen by Le Comte some eight decades ago and I have been but a shell of myself since. But the heart is a strong organ and I have to say it does repair in part - one with The Will To Live does not rest upon her chaise longue indefinitely. One pulls up one's stockings and one GETS ON. Yes, a solitary Lover is dangerous. Two is far more sensible, dears. It is impossible to fall in love with multiple men simultaneously - a universal Truth.  

Alas, I must end this here for now. Georges, for some strange reason, appears to have been struck himself by spring's springing and verily doth the sap rise which, given the addition of not one but two Lovers, does now present me with a rather tiresome problem. 

Mais, as we say here in France, à l’impossible nul n’est tenu..!

5 commentaires:

  1. Please pace yourself, dearest, lest you become so weary you fail to grace us with your charming anecdotes.

  2. Weary? Yes, alas, I fear I may. Though young Juan keeps both Dapphers and I well stocked with his own hand-mixed remedy - a tonic to not only keep us looking young but feeling it too!

    We'll pop a phial in the post to you, dear - help keep your spirits up when dealing with those troublesome stallions of yours.

  3. Yes, quite! Were you a hawk in a previous life, dear?

    Grasping nettles is rather easy and somewhat futile. Certainly no measure of one's true inner fortitude, that's for sure! But, ah, getting to grip with one's mettle... a far more Noble and Worthy pursuit, wouldn't you agree?

  4. “Come to the edge," he said. They said: "We are afraid." "Come to the edge," he said. They came. He pushed them and they flew.

    Guillaume Apollinaire