I want to take Cam to Europe after I square away a few more debts and outstanding bills. Hopefully next year. Not to revisit the places I vaguely recall and love with all my hardened heart and arteries but rather to just amble and shamble over new landscapes at our leisure. A no name, poverty-pack Wild Swans At Coole, if you will.
My problem is, I somehow think I'll insist we stay there.
Live till our 90s, argue the spectrum of inconsequential and picayune thru' history making and world shattering, get back on the wine and Trappist lager and Gauloise Blondes, eat healthily and far too well every day and shout and manically gesticulate for everything from the greeting of strangers to the finding of colourful bugs and insects through to CRISPR and the new eugenics and arms races.
And run into the ocean naked, drunk and pissing ourselves laughing every other afternoon because that's just how the rules work over there.
Such irrational fears hound me daily.
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