She reads Nabokov, she thinks Ibsen's better than Shakespeare, and she's beautiful. She met my daughters, and my immediate family, last weekend, and she wasn't overwhelmed, or didn't seem to be. She's kept me so happy and busy for the last month that I've hardly had time to write anything here; she'll read this and no doubt let me know what she thinks about it. I've taken ages to blog about her because I'm pretty glib and offhand when I blog about my personal life: but that style doesn't really suit the way I feel about her.
When I imagine my trip in October, I feel like I'm already missing her.