A Stroll in the Park

Dear readers, please forgive my hiatus. My ladyfriend Catherine recently returned from tending to her ill mother. After the rather emotional weeks she spent as a doting nursemaid, she demanded my exclusive company for several days. Although it was, as always, a delight to entertain her and regale her with anecdotes and fictitious adventures, it kept my pen from my paper for a length of time.

While C. takes great pleasure in wandering the grounds on my estate, after a few days she suggested we travel to the city and enjoy some of the public parklands there. One of our great pastimes is sitting discretely on a bench and regarding the passersby and other various parkgoers, commenting on them mercilessly. We attempt, like children, to maintain our composure and dignity when others approach, switching our discourse to politics, the flux in the transportation market, and so on.

Oh Sweet Helena!

When I was a young man, many untruths reigned freely in my troubled mind. Despite my father’s wisdom, I regularly mistook any fleeting glance from a lady to be signs of unrequited love. The passions that raged within me from these accidental moments would be quelled only by drowning them later in wine, when I would writhe in miserable anguish on the study floor, red sediment staining my lips from their familiar hold on the bottle.

Helena was by far the most thirst-inducing of all the nymphs of my youth. Oh sweet Helena, forgive my foolishness!