Dear Carlton,
Well here I am in France, enjoying my break. I hope you are thinking long and hard about our relationship.
Yesterday I visited a friend, Claude Monet, and after a picnic on the Seine, I strolled through his beautiful garden. Can you see how worried I am about your stupid hamstrings, back spasms and presidential plans? Pas du tout!
I did not think of you until I returned to my apartment in Paris and looked online to see if you had done anything to prove your commitment to our relationship.
Whilst I was a little heartened by your efforts, it is still early days. I do not want to discourage you, but there is a ten year history of disappointment to be erased.
Today I am meeting another Frenchman (this one is alive) in The Tuileries gardens, and you will again be banished from my thoughts.
I think I might take up gardening when I get home. That way I can have my own back spasms and we may end up visiting separate physios. This could be good for our relationship, if we do get back together.
A bientot Carlton!
Barb.
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