Now, the same tale as blog-the-first, but sans 'e' this time. I can see this taking up far too much time - may have to take a break.
That night, as I wound down from a fantastic smorgasbord of tasty tapas which my paramour had put out, talk was all about our happy sojourn through this world. Our company was doing brilliantly, and with hardly any input from boss 1 and boss 2. No cash worry for us: moolah massing day by day, good for months abroad, or just visiting our witty, artistic chums. In short: happy, happy, happy. Look at us, and you’d think only of our joy. Our kids? Doing brilliantly. Mind, body, spirit? A-ok. Boudoir frolics? Yup, and lots!
But just as my darling was starting to tidy away bits of food and drink, just as nightfall was approaching and our patio was bathing in a glow of dusk-gold sun, I had, in an instant, a shocking attack of doubt and worry. About what? I couldn’t say, and thanks to this inability to draw out of my mind what was wrong, I sank into an black mood. My soul was fading fast, towards a fug of doom and gloom. It was as if I was a failing acrobat, trying with all his might to avoid a fall and a crash. From happily gazing across a fabulous miradoro, to a horror of tumbling down a cliff.
I sat up on my chair, to pull air into my lungs and to try again to find words to say what was so troubling. Amanda saw my frowns and – how thoughtful – was straight away asking what was so awful.
“Simon, my all. You look so pallid and clammy. What’s up?”
“It’s … it’s ….” I was gabbling now. “It’s … so odd. As you said … oh, I can’t bring it to mind. Anyhow, as you said … was it about our pudding? … I was struck by a conviction that this world, our world, has a vast gap in it. A psychic lacuna, of sorts.” I was twitching now. “It’s so important, my darling, and although I just can’t say what it is, I know I must try to find out.”
“OK,” said Amanda, “I’ll do my all to assist you. Was it a thought about us which brought this about? Or our kids? Your mum?”
“No, not at all. My only thought, as I saw you making a play to tidy up, was of scoffing a bit of that yummy Comté, or if it wasn’t so stinky, a nubbin of Livarot, and – blam! – at that point I was struck most strongly by a kind of total doubt.”
Throughout an hour of dark discussion I did my utmost to find tranquillity of spirit again, with Amanda in loving support. But as our day was slipping into night I saw, with horror, that I still had no notion of what was missing, and I had to admit that this would finish badly for all.