There are things which are hard to tell - like what happened at the Editor's last night, because seen in daylight and thought about rationally, they might appear strange and disproportionate. I am sure when I write about it and you read it, it's all different from what really happened, from what the real feelings and the real atmosphere were. Because some intimate things are just meant for the lovers themselves, as what they do is never awkward or ridiculous for them. But I will tell you all the same, because this is a place where I tell things which I will never tell anybody else in my life.

Yes - I made love to him. The doctor had allowed him some Viagra in spite of his ailing heart, and it worked. He showed me with pride, like young men always do - but he certainly hadn't done this for a long time. He wanted to use a condom, but the pressure of the tight material had a disastrous effect, so I suggested leaving it - the risks for both were small.

It was touching how this moment made the otherwise dominant man solemn and mild. After he had felt for my body and touched me everywhere with great respect and awe as I was standing in front of him, I made him recline on the settee and sat on top of him. I tried to grip him at good as I could, and started moving. I of course knew what his great desire was.

No - I did not fake it. I just thought of someone else, I admit, but I felt him, and as I am pretty easy to arouse, I embraced him and I came in due time - as long, and as violently and as noisily as I know every man likes to be the cause of.

He held me long, and the drug did its effect - I could feel him all the time. But he could not cum that way, as much as he would have liked. But my mouth and my tongue are much stronger stimuli, and it worked beautifully. Like last time there was hardly any cum - but there was such a radiant smile on his face and his eyes sparked so young at the moment of climax that I held him for much longer.

We ate something, but we didn't speak much. We smiled a lot, though, and when I left, he pressed my hand long. That was it - and I am sure you think me strange - because I even do, today. I will never tell anybody - but it has become part of my life.

Two intensive days of singing in the choir - all these young voices sound just wonderful. I used to sing in a different choir before - but older and more mature voices are never the same. They may be well-trained and expressive, but there is nothing like young, unspoilt voices of adolescent people. It is quite a pleasant experience to sit among the students and do something with them which you cannot do better than they. That's so different from teaching, where you always know much more. While singing, you are equal, and you fight with the same problems and enjoy the same pleasures like they do.

Sitting in a semi-cercle, I had the opportunity and enough time to watch them closely. Have you ever noticed that singing makes people more beautiful? The relaxed way they go with the music; their concentration brings about some kind of radiation from within. And many of them are absolutely beautiful, with their open faces and young, firm bodies. Being between 15 and 19, many appear like adults, and they are wonderfully attractive, boys and girls. I know of course I am their teacher and they are my students, and so they are totally off-limits for me, and everything else would be grossly unprofessional.

But somewhere else - in another place, at another time, in an altogether different situation - I admit that some of them could sexually arouse me - boys and girls. Actually I noticed I could also arouse them. Like a sweet guy from the tenors who was sitting almost opposite me and looking at me long, and whose hand in his pocket obviously held his erigated penis. I gave him a little smile.

The first day after the holidays - not always an easy day for me. Lessons start in the afternoon, and as always I am nervous and feel insecure. It's some kind of stage fright, even after all these years. How will they look at me? Will they listen to me? Will they learn anything from my lessons? I know routine will set in as soon as I have started, but all the same it troubles me every time, and I can't sleep well the night before the start.

In the evening and tomorrow all day I will sing in the school choir because their concert will be soon and they need all voices they can get. They have some extra practice days on Monday and Tuesday and I'll join they when I have finished my lessons.

What else? For Wednesday evening I have another invitation to the Editor - we had to put it off for various reasons before the holidays, but now it seems that his health is good enough - actually for what? I will see and best be ready for everything.

I have not seen Joerg and Elsie after being away skiing, only spoken to Elsie on the phone - they were away for a few days, too. But I don't want to lose their friendship, so I have invited them for Saturday. It's the traditional start of the open air swimming season in my garden and I will cook for them. I was magnanimous and told them they could take Kueken along, too, as she seems to belong to the family by now anyway.

And Timo? He is in Vienna at the moment, meeting some television people for one of his scripts and his editor because of a new edition of one is his eco thrillers. I'll meet him when he is back - maybe Thursday.

But now under the shower and get dressed - good bye, casual wear, hello, business dress.

My two week holidays are already over - and they were like no spring holidays before: sunshine all the time and hardly ever a cloud, and temperatures like in summer. Up to now April was by 6°C warmer than this month usually is. My pool is all ready to be used, and I was swimming in it for the first time. And I will do it now every day until October. What a great sensation again to feel the naked skin glide through the cool water, and then step out of the pool into the sun while the water runs down like a thousand gittering diamonds. And to think that I was still skiing a week ago.

I corrected some tests and did some reading - already for the finals which loom somethere in the distant future - 25 oral tests about 25 different books in one day. But soon I got tired and lay down on a big towel in the middle of my lawn - all naked and exposed to the sun - and looked up into the dark-blue sky.

And while I thought that I very much felt like someone touching me and filling all the places which were so ready to accept his flesh - not knowing who, but just someone wonderful and strong - I suddenly remembered a line from Manic Panic's comment under one of my past blogs: "As I have only every been with one person...and pretty much only dated one person..." and I didn't know how to feel about that - to admire her, or pity her .... imagine being able to say this, and be satisfied ... why am I so different?

I found this picture online and it is from Colmar, and these are typical houses along the street where traditionally the fishermen lived who caught salmon and trout in the little river. There used to be such a lot of salmon that the authorities decided for the protection of the servants and maids in town that they were only allowed to be served salmon twice a week for dinner. But although the houses are certainly much more beautiful than in the past, there is hardly any fish in the river, but a lot of mud and rubbish instead. But there are hardly and servants and maids, either, and the poorer people eat fast-food anyway, even in France, while the salmon which the richer people and the tourists eat is imported from Norwegian fish-farms. So it goes.

But: "'T were to consider too curiously, to consider so." (Hamlet, V,1)

When I arrived at Beatrix's house quite early on Thursday morning, she said lets get in the car we'll go somewhere nice I need some distance to this all. Her two daughters were with friends, and so I put my suitcase into the trunk of her car and instead of shopping in Zürich we spent two lovely days in the part of France which borders on Germany and Switzerland and is called Alsace. While they usually speak French, older people still use some cute German dialect which sounds like some kind of Swiss. It's a very lovely area, very mild and rich with vinyards and fruit-trees, many castles and ancient buildings and great towns. We stayed for a night in Colmar, which is particularly beautiful.

The reason for this unexpected journey was Beatrix' marriage, which she is unhappy with at the moment. Her husband works much too much, so she thinks, and has less and less time for the family and hardly participates in the education of their two lovely daughters. And now she has found out that he has sex with someone from his office. It's not that the physical aspect worries her much. She is fairly open and not overly possessive. I think I mentioned that I even used to be in threesomes with them when we were students, and we all had pretty liberal views concerning sex when we lived together in that house in Zürich. What worries and hurts her is the fact that he kept it secret from her and that he seems to develop an extra life of which she is no longer part.

So besides enjoying the lovely food and wine and the great landscape, we talked a lot about her and her life, and then about me and my life, and then we needed some more wine, and then we started again about our rotten fates, and the more wine we had, the sorrier we felt for ourselves. So when he went to bed after midnight we certainly had a few too many - but as we didn't yodel on our way home, all went well and we slept like logs until 10 this morning, when I woke up with tormenting thirst.

Although it has been suggested repeatedly that I seduce the plumber as soon as he enters my house if he is young and attractive enough, I will not take your advice this time. It seems to me that this is something for desperate housewives who have no opportunity to meet people otherwise or who maybe have no chance of developing sexual contacts with people who are part of their own social group. Or for those who want to cheat their absent husbands, or need a change from them, or are habitually so horny that they fuck whatever fuckable enters their house.

As I qualify for none of these categories, you find me nice and properly dressed this morning - the sky is cloudy anyway today and it's not going to be so warm - while the plumber is downstairs and fiddles with his pipes. The only treat he will get in some minutes is coffee.

And what's next? Yes, my friends, I am going to meet a builder and interior decorator in the afternoon, because I have decided to get a brand-new kitchen. The old one is over 20 years old and was built for my parents, but now I feel like something new. I don't have many ideas myself, but I will let myself be informed this afternoon so that my imagination can start working.

And tomorrow, I'll take the train over to Zürich, and then it's shopping time with Beatrix.

"Are you wet?" is the question I was asked ever so often when visiting chatrooms at a time when I still visited chatrooms. It's the question you can ask me now, too, and I would have to answer it in the positive. Actually, it's only my feet and they got wet when I climbed down into my celler this morning, which I hadn't done since Friday. And I was not very wet, but the carpet in my work-room is soaked and I have noticed that one of the heating pipes seems to be leaking.

I immediately phoned my plumber, and he will arrive some time this afternoon to stop the leak. So although it's still panty weather, I'll cover up my bareness and expect him with impatience. So that he can do something against my acute wetness.

There are many wonderful messages during the week, and most of them are so good to read and often deal with me and my life. It's amazing that there are people who spend some of their time and not only read what I write here in my blog, but actually think about it and then write me lovely, long texts. It makes me so happy to get and to read them; it's usually a private pleasure, yet I have decided to publish one here - because it's just so wise and profound:

"Dear Alpina
It is clear to me that you have come to a fork in the road and are presented with a choice of direction you are desperately uncertain over which road to take.

On the right side is the path you feel you should take but that leads you to quiet, conservative, settled living. It leads to the sort of life that most of your contemporaries have taken, where placid husbands, children and family holidays are the norm.

The other road to the left is in fact the continuation of the route you have come down, it leads on to a repitition of your past, where no day is the same where you do as you please without need to consult others and new bed partners provide sexual excitement, stimulation and a vigorous interest in life.

The voices within you are divided, the free spirited ones keep saying turn left while those that see the future say turn right. Perhaps if there was a third turning the answer to your future would be there. Maybe it is but you do not see it clearly. Look again, left is your past, right is Timo but there straight ahead is another hidden track that has no name as yet but if you look around you may well find it's name and the way to go.
xxxxx "

What a great message, and what very wise advice.

It's panty weather - wonderfully warm summer days in the middle of April; according to the radio it was the warmest 15th April since people started to measure and take down temperatures. All is in full bloom, and I pumped out and cleaned my pool all day. It's something I always do alone - I take my time and wash down and rinse everything - until all's sparkling white. And an hour ago I started to fill in the clean water.

I call it panty weather because that's all I wear on such a day. I put them on when I leave my bed, the usual black cotton thongs I love so much, and I move around in my house and my garden in just this. It's such a good feeling: sun on my skin, and the light easterly wind I felt when I climbed out of the pool to get myself a drink. In the middle of the afternoon my neighbour Helene came over to bring me their key as they will be away for a few days. She had a good laugh when she saw me the way I was so early in the year, but when we had a cocktail together, she pulled her summer dress off, too, and her panties were bikini size and red. And it's all I'm wearing still now as it's getting dark outside and I'm sitting here in my study at the computer.

By the way, I won't go to Vienna to see Maria - she has no time for me. Boo hoo..... So I will mainly stay at home. Maybe I'll go over to Zürich for a day to see Beatrix and do some shopping with her. I don't know yet - and this is good so.