A week of heaven on earth for
Classical Music Agony Aunt ALICE McVEIGH
i have this friend and she knows we are friends again and she admitted to me that she wanted to make up again. So i said yes, but everytime i talk to her she doesn't wanna reply back to the comments and messages i sent to her. Am i being used or should i just tell her how i feel straight up?
the music girl
Dear music girl,
The way I read the situation is this: I think your friend is embarrassed by the way she behaved when you fell out as friends, and just wants to forget about it and be friends again.
My advice is that you go along with this. It takes a very impressive character to say 'I'm sorry and disappointed in how I behaved' -- and -- so far at least -- your friend has not found that kind of character. However, it also takes an impressive character to be charitable enough to forget about it, and I recommend you try this. (I suspect she knows exactly how you feel anyway!!!!)
Friendship can be about forgetting as much as about remembering.
I was surprised to note that your last column came from Limoges.
Were you on holiday?
Copyright © 25 July 2008
Alice McVeigh, Kent UK
Au contraire, I've never worked harder in my life!!! But it felt a little like a holiday, because my ghost writing client picked the most divine corner of the world to work in. It was www.moulindelagorce.com, an enchanting 16th-century mill converted to about ten extremely cosy apartments set in the most divine countryside. The lake alone was sheerest perfection, the colors of the trees in the water like one of Monet's perkiest, and the sound of the waterfall was so relaxing it was hard to remember, sometimes, that we were meant to be engaged in a serious effort of political biography. My client's wife went cycling, horseback riding, canoeing etc while he and I slogged to the sound of the waterfall, interrupted only by the discreet inquiries of the staff whether we needed another espresso. As for the absolutely stunning gourmet meals there every evening ... words fail me. The restaurant has a Michelin star and the only thing better than the veal were the little black truffles -- no, hang on, the fish with the artichoke purée was the best, with delicate little raspberries framing the plate -- or was that the stunning special mushroom and steak thingie? Anyway, one could hardly bear to get stuck in, as they all resembled miniature works of art.
As for the wine, I frankly don't know much about wine, except that I can't bear sweet ones, but the Chateux Neuf de something or other was the best wine I've ever tasted. The very scent of it was ambrosia! My own French was a complete embarrassment, as ever, but the owner was so friendly and the staff so interested that they never let me feel it. ('Togezzer you compose zee meurder mystery?' 'Non, je lack cette kind of brain power. Je can't sort out le clues.')
I didn't even have to miss my dogs. They have one in residence, so spoiled by the droplets of Chateux Neuf and exquisite steak that he can hardly waddle, but wonderfully open-hearted.
In short, La moulin de la gorce (which actually translates to Mill on the Floss, or something similar) is purest heaven. A little slice of heaven bunged down on earth. A place you'll never want to leave. A place that your taste-buds will ache for forever. If only all of a writer's life bore the smallest relation to it ...