The Lunch of Joy

I stressed this morning. Thought Lyull wasn't coming, as he'd not rung to tell me what time he was pitching up. Despaired and went food shopping, whereupon he rang and left a message with my flatmate. Then I panicked and put on the Kaiser Chiefs.

Lunch was rather pleasant. The veal saltimbocca went to plan - except for the fact he doesn't like potatoes, which is both odd and something I didn't know - and was hailed as a reasonable cook. My painting was also compared to Michelangelo (at least in theme). I didn't mess up or say anything incredibly stupid. Thus, verdict on the afternoon is a definite improvement. Good foundations for future building.

Sigh. Would bloody well help if I could actually get up the nerve to finish the house - or demolish it forever. He did say something odd: can't remember how my mother came up, but he said "I think your mother thinks it's odd that we're still in touch.", to which I replied, "That's her problem." He agreed and said nothing more on it, but I don't understand why he brought it up. Is he worried that she'd disapprove? Is it his way of saying he thinks it's odd? I suppose it is, really. Not many people stay in touch with their sixth form tutors. Even if they do go to the same Oxford college and end up in the same profession.

Not many people are in love with the same man for seven years without telling him.