After a lovely flight this morning, a rather tiresome trip by train and a ride on the local bus I have arrived home - tired, but ever so happy. What a great time I had - London is definitely my town, I think I could live there permanently.

I must admit I was a little afraid of coming home - I knew I would be alone, and my cat would not lovingly push her nose against my legs - instead I found a little wooden box behind my front door which had been delivered by mail - the ashes of my cremated cat, and attached to it a bill for her cremation. So ordinary life has me back ...

The last two weeks were just fantastic. Phillip had to work pretty much, so I was usually on my own during the day. But when we were together, we had the very best of times. We made love so often I soon lost count, and if my period had not spoit some of the fun, we would have made love twice daily at least. The flat Phillip lives in during April is cute - fairly small, but cosy and quiet and so close to the center.

I am too tired to report now. I need a shower and then I will sleep soon. Before night fell, I walked around my garden: how green everything has become during the last two weeks. There are many flowers and the bushes and trees are full of tender little green leaves. Soon it will be summer, and this is my favourite season by far.

Well, it's nice to be back again at NN, too. I have decided to go on with my blog for the time being, and I hope I am not quite forgotten ...

Last night I had a lovely Chinese meal with some colleagues from school, today I had my last lessons before my holiday. I collected the ashes of my cremated cat from the Animal Clinic (not without a few tears on the bus home), I got some money from the cash machine, and I'll soon be ready to go. I will stay overnight with my friend Beatrix in Zürich, because the plane is leaving early in the morning.

I am not taking my laptop along, so I won't be connected to the web for two weeks. That's why I'm saying goodbye for a fortnight - to all of you who read me regularly and particularly to those who haven written private messages to me lately or comments under my blog. My friends - I do not have time to write to you individually, but just know how much I appreciate your reactions, advice and kind words. Thank you so much - and all the best to you all.

I think I have never mentioned it, but London is more than only my dream town - it is the town where I was procreated - in the night after my parents attended a Pink Floyd concert, my mother insisted. That's why I have 60s music in my blood, and my trip to London is a trip to my origins - the place where my genes met and said: "Let's produce this girl, and let's do it well." So London - here I come ...

When I arrived at Ruth's, she opened the frontdoor in a bathrobe and with a broad smile; her husband, the professor, was in the kitchen preparing the meal as usual, and she led me into her room immediately. They have separate bedrooms, and Ruth's looks like a whole, pleasant and cosy living-room, in which she spends a lot of her time. Her husband has not slept in here for years, she once told me, and she not in his.

When she had closed the door behind her, she bade me sit down in a comfortable chair, then stood in front of me, and with a florish, opened her bathrobe wide.

Now before I'm going on, I have to tell that some time ago we were talking about undergarments and what I was wearing, and she even insisted on me showing her. She thought mine were very pretty and she was a little tired of her granny size white cotton cookables - and her lover had asked if she didn't own any lingerie. I told her why I am usually wearing the same brand of black cotton thongs and a lacy, slightly push-up bra, and where I buy them.

So she opened her bathrobe elegantly - and here she was: in exactly my underwear. And although I am used to seeing it daily, I must admit I was shocked, because I now saw my undies on her body - the body of a 75-year-old woman. Not that she is ugly, she has the most winning complexion and radiant, mischievous eyes, and she is not fat, either. She is just --- old.
I do not have to describe in detail, you have seen it: the texture of old sagging skin, the folds and crevices, the stains. The almost empty, hanging breasts. The awkward proportions.

What shocked me so deeply was not my friend, who was smiling proudly and expectantly. No, it was the sudden recognition that my body, at this very moment, was on a slow journey to look like this one day, that is was utterly unavoidable that in some time my body would be like hers. Looking at her - I did not know if I could ever stand being like that.

I said to her that she was looking ever so sexy, and if I was a guy I am sure it would not hold me on my chair, here and now. She looked so happy. And their dinner was really fantastic - I had not expected anything else.

Yesterday afternoon I was sitting outside on my porch in my panties and my t-shirt rolled up to expose my tummy to an early dosage of sun, while I was reading "In Cold Blood" by Truman Capote. I have heard I can see the film about Capote in London, and I'm looking forward to it. And I'd love to read the book with one of my classes.

But while it was 18°C yesterday, it's 2°C today - during the morning it has started to snow and when I look out of my window, all's white like in deepest winter. That's not untypical for April here, but still unpleasant. All the spring flowers are wearing a white hat and are certainly cold - like me, because I have already turned down the heating.

Tonight I'll will visit Ruth, my elderly friend. She and her husband have invited me to dinner before I leave. It's always a little embarrassing when her husband, the professor, is there, because I was once at one of his brilliant literature courses and spent the night with him, and I guess Ruth still does not know. I knew him first, before she took to me and became my friend - so my conscience is not too bad, particularly as she has taken herself a younger lover, too.

I'm sure I will be updated on her affair tonight, and it's always good fun, because she can tell about her delicate moves like no other. If her talents as a lover are only half as good as those as a cook, she must be just wonderful.

"Requiem" is a new German film about an incident which took place in 1976 in Southern Germany, not so far from here. A young girl called Anneliese died after a series of exorcisms, arranged by her parents and executed by the Catholic church, which still officially trains exorcists to this day. The parents for some reasons thought that the devil had taken over her body, so they starved her - to drive him out. She died from lack of food after a long time of suffering. No-one had noticed, or wanted to have noticed, that Anneliese was killed by her own parents with the helping hand of the church. They finally got away with the argument that the devil had been victorious and claimed her soul. There was no indictment.

This disquieting story came to my mind - I don't know why - when I heard that Ambitious Annette (see March 30) had been absent from school yesterday "because of a minor accident at the weekend". Her family seem to obey some pretty strict religious rules, and there seems to be punishment for the disobeying - as far as I have understood my student. I mean: what kind of accident can she have had on a day she is not allowed to do anything, not even read a book for her English class?

I am going to talk to her as soon as there is a chance. I hope I can have a word with her before the holidays begin on Friday. Yes, it's only three more days, and then I'm flying to London - and you'll have to miss me for two weeks. Well, maybe you won't mind taking a holiday, too - from my blog.

I did not quite tell the full truth about yesterday at Elsie and Joerg's - but there is no use being quiet about it in a secret place like this, where the whole idea is to be more open than anywhere else I can put a text, even more open than in my private diary which one day will certainly be read by people who know me face to face. To sweeten my pain after Phillip leaving, my two friends solemnly handed me a present after Jacuzzi - the absolute twin brother of Elsie's power tool of a vibrator, which we all admired some time ago (see Feb. 24).

Now I was quite embarrassed when I held this huge thing in my hands and felt a little silly when I said that I was never using such a machine and still old-fashionedly did everything à main. But they just laughed and said they knew this and that's why there was a free demonstration and training lesson included with their present.

And later, in bed, after the wine, I had this demonstration and training lesson, and enjoyed it. That's what I didn't write this morning - it's out now.

The sun was already hiding behind the mountain tops when I rang Joerg and Elsie’s doorbell. And I must say – I do not regret having gone over to them. All evening they were absolutely wonderful with me, patient and supportive when necessary, but also very funny later in the night, and they succeeded in making me temporarily forget my worries and brighten my spirits considerably. I am so glad I have them.

Elsie had cooked a wonderful meal: several courses, with an Italian salad first, then roast meat, vegetables and potatoes, and she had bought some of my favourite ice-cream. And they had two bottle of wonderful Italian wine ready. During the meal, I could speak all the depressing things off my soul, and they were very good listeners. They have had several dogs during their lives themselves and are familiar with the loss of a beloved animal friend, and they told me of the feelings that had had at the time.

First I had thought I didn’t feel much like Jacuzzi, but when the sun had set and some candle lights were burning in their garden, it was so beautiful and romantic I couldn’t resist any longer. “Be our princess tonight”, Joerg said with a big smile. And they treated me like a princess out of the “Arabian Nights” – they carefully undressed me, lead me into the Jacuzzi and made sure I could just relax and feel safe. I cried a little first after I had been able to let go – for the loss of a friend and the temporary loss of a lover – but then I snuggled into their arms and started to feel them gently touching me, and I just leaned back and felt and felt.

Later, they carefully towelled me dry, and rubbed some lotion all over my body. In their bed, we drank the second bottle of wine, and we became rather hilarious, and laughed a lot. We also checked how far Elsie’s pubic hair had grown out already and called her a hedgehog, if anything. Later, after some coffee and a few glasses of Italian Grappa, they didn’t let me go home: they took me into their middle and we slept together in their big bed. I must have fallen asleep immediately, and they said this morning there had been a smile on my face while doing so.

A phonecall from Phillip: he sounds cheerful. His London flat is small, but very pleasant and comfortable. He is looking forward to showing me all ... no scratching at the door from Mira, no sounds in my house but creaking wood. She is lying in a cooling box at the vet's, and tomorrow she will be cremated. I don't want her to end ground up and turned into animal food. Her ashes will be buried in my garden ... thanks, all my friends who wrote messages and comments ... you cannot know how much I appreciated them all. You gave me something to hold on ... it's so strange: the sun is shining despite everything ... it's hard to believe ... Joerg and Elsie said tonight they would come and fetch me, if necessary by force ... I think I will give in to them, I ought to eat something, I think ...

I did not cry when Phillip left. I had no more tears. It's so quiet now, and I am alone. I don't know yet if I will go to Elsie and Joerg's tonight. I don't feel much like food, and partying and Jacuzzi. I will see - maybe when the fog lifts.

Dear Mira, my beloved cat,

you have left me today for good. When we took you to the vet early this morning, you were already terminally ill, dehydrated, in diabetic shock, too weak even to lift your head. Yesterday you were still so hungry and cheerful, and you complacently greeted Phillip, but then you could not hold you food during the night and grew weaker by the hour.

You shared a house with me for 10 years, and you were my friend and my family. I will miss you. May your soul rest in peace.

I am so sad,
Alpina