So Paris didn’t work out as planned, as life so seldom does. In hindsight, I’m not sure I was ever even in love with him, not properly in love – just flattered and a bit bored. I guess he never did that thing to me that the big loves always do: where their very existence disrupts your voltage. One moment you’re fine and the next you know that nothing will ever be the same again. One of my best friends put it into perspective for me when I called her. I was packing at the time and she said: “darling, don’t worry, he’s just Petrovsky and not Mr. Big, and I’m so glad you’re not going to be wandering around Paris with sad music playing behind you anymore”. Another said: “oh well, more material.” God bless Sex and the City references and non-judgmental friends.
In any case, I’m no longer in Paris, am now off the grid writing my next novel. I’ve had a couple of agencies request the full manuscript for the last one (very exciting), but we’ll see.
And I’m really excited about 2017.
Not only does it herald the end of 2016 (the weirdest year I’ve ever had) but it just feels positive. To me at least. By the way, I know it’s off topic but: I barely smoke – I know it’s bad for me – but I do love it, and am looking for a vintage cigarette case. So if anyone knows of a store, please let me know…
Otherwise, wishing you all a wonderful 2017, where life is light and simple, romance is real and resolutions are kept.