Reveries to Peel me off this Velcro Seat: beautiful nurse etc.
I helped my personal tutee show his nurse round today. She was gorgeous. I’m terrible and can’t keep my eyes off the women around me. She had a very soft, yet mature face, a caring empathic face and impeccable shoulder length light brown hair which looked natural and was, I think, parted just off centre. Together too, her voice and manner, was gentle and warmly intelligent. M accuses me often of being better able to imagine being with other women than with her, and I must admit that sometimes she is right. Within seconds of being with this woman I felt at ease and as if I could effortlessly take a great deal of pleasure in getting to know her. It’s the kind of feeling, I’m sure, that some subset of people talk about when they talk about love at first sight. Not that I love her, you understand. Not a bit of it. But were something to have developed from such a meeting, and from such a feeling, there would surely be a temptation to look back and experience that feeling as the beginning of an uninterrupted state of being in love. But I wax lyrical. The reveries here have been numerous, I’ll try to recount a few of them:
The subject of the nurse comes up in one of the meetings. A morning meeting, with all staff around. It is not known how to contact her. I happen to mention a very recent conversation I have had with the nurse. Smiles all round. Questions are asked about my Czech girlfriend. She is in Prague, I say. What happened? She came to her senses.
The subject of the nurse comes up in a morning meeting. It is not known if I am to meet with the nurse. I suggest that it is imperitive I am present when my tutee meets his nurse. Would that have anything to do with the fact that she is a very attractive young lady? I hadn’t noticed/why no, it is merely that I am very hands on in my dutees as a personal tutor etc etc.
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Morning meeting. One of the senior managers is emphatic about some point of practice, “no, no, no,” he says. “Mama mia, mama mia” or “Mishmilner” I retort, quoting Bohemian Rhapsody, to laughter.
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I was hoping to detail much more, but I did not have time of course. When I have most problems with concentration, and therefore have the most reveries, it is most impossible to write them down.
