The Spanish version of Perfect Strangers seemed a bit annoying, but the French version is quite good. The original is still better acted though. In the French version the women are more attractive, especially the one with the curls. I forgot how clever the story is. The scene in which the daughter calls her father to ask if she should have sex for the first time that night are not is very beautiful. Surprising is when one of them has received the earrings from one of the partners of the others. I like the setting. Sharing food is so vital to the human experience. In good company everything tastes better.

Luna is in the air at this moment. Which reminds me of the airplane scene in The Wolf of Wall Street and Up in the air, with George Clooney, which has one of the best ‘two strangers immediately attracted to each other’ scenes I know of.

Tonight the first episode of the last season of Game of Thrones airs, am not a big fan, I stopped reading the books years ago, but am curious how they will end it. The show itself has become more and more ridiculous. Series like Rome, The Affair, or even Vikings were better. Some of my students watch it so at least we will have something to talk about.

I had the laziest possible weekend. I went out twice for shopping and otherwise I stayed in. I could have met people, but I chose not to.

I have mentioned Dawson’s Creek to Luna, all in all it’s a silly series, but it does capture something of the spirit of being a teenager, the aspirations, the hopes and dreams, the worries, and the sheer overwhelming rush of experiencing beauty on a wholly different, more conscious level than before your body got dipped in a potent cocktail of hormones. It would be embarrassing to watch it with her, it’s so innocent and naive. I liked it a lot when I was a student. I remember having the night shift at the chocolate factory. You had to tape things with a VCR if you wanted to watch something. I used to tape it and watch it in the morning, at about 7.00, with chocolate still in my nostrils. I remember sleeping till about 14.30 then and watching it again sometimes or reading A people’s history of the United States in the garden, before going back to work round 21.00. It was a murderous rhythm. Scooping 1800 kilogram of cacao butter every day. 1500 if it was dark cacao butter because that was harder to dig into. Or filling 550 buckets with 5 liters of liquid almond flavored chocolate every day. I remember biking back and forth, 10 km there and 10 km back. It may have been 15, I don’t remember exactly. I remember my body after a couple of weeks of that. I remember running 13 km with my neighbour on a Saturday morning and doing more than 400 push-ups every day except on Sunday. Not realizing that it was probably not building that much muscle, except for my shoulders maybe, but it kept me sort of fit and disciplined. I remember Morgane wanting to take me to the beach to show me off. My father said Morgane was the typical name for a witch, that it reminded him of the tale of Excalibur. Of course he didn’t tell this to me directly, but I got to hear it via my mother. Looking back now all these things become so utterly irrelevant. I remember getting very nervous and feeling massive guilt if I skipped running even once. I couldn’t skip doing the push-ups either. In Ireland I even did them at a parking lot in the dark, only later realizing that there were little bits of glass on the ground. Tom was very patient with these uchylky as Luna calls them, and three days later he was already in a coma and six months later he was dead, as though the tumor in his body had agreed to let him enjoy his holiday in Ireland before striking.