Yesterday I had dinner with a journalist working for a Dutch weekly. The conversation was pleasant, the atmosphere congenial and the journalist left a decent tip, which was appropriate because I had taken him to my favorite restaurant.
Since the man is working on a profile on me he wanted to see my manicurist, Mrs. Irina.
He even went for a manicure with a Russian lady named Svetlana, while Irina was working on my nails.
Today he went back for a pedicure and waxing of his chest, so he could ask Irina about my private life. He said, "yes when I do waxing I’ll have more time to ask her detailed questions." (I hope to redirect all journalists to Irina in the coming years.)
It has to be said; beyond my nails I don’t really have a private life.
But I hope to change this in the near future.
Today I received my ticket to Afghanistan. No stop at Kandahar Air Field this time.