Our perfect guest arrived two weeks ago. A black vehicle, with tinted windows, drew up to the door. The driver silently unloaded various boxes and cases, and then very carefully helped our guest into the house. Our Perfect Guest, a very picky eater, had brought her own food. She is particular about where she sleeps and had actually considered bringing her own bed. Too much, she decided.
It has been a quiet two weeks. Our Perfect Guest doesn’t care much for idle conversation. She needed to rest. Commercial plane travelling was so tiring. and most hotels were too noisy. The quiet country life was the cat’s meow.
We don’t see much of our guest. She discovered my bedroom was well stocked with novels. French novels, Flaubert and Balzac no less. She loves the smell of old books. Phoebe, our guest is very much a “blue stocking”.
chut… Phoebe dort …
(Hush … Phoebe sleeps…)