The lamb chops for tea were indeed very good, even served with tepid Smash reconstituted mashed potato from a pack. Washing the ‘frying pan’ was h...rder; we ended up copying the Swallows and Amazons (or was it the Famous Five?) and scrubbing it round with sand first to mop up the fat, before boiling some water in the small pan for a mug of tea and using the leftover to wash out the big lid.We went to bed before it was quite dusk, made love, and slept like a pair of logs until the rising sun hit. She smiles back. Mesmer remains serious. He stares, expectant, and reassuring, waiting for the rest of the story, for the reason for our visit. ‘We have the perfect relationship in every way. Except that I don’t like oral,’ she blurts. Admitting the problem is the first step to finding a cure. ‘You don’t like receiving oral?’ Mesmer muses. ‘No.’ A guiltily guffaw. ‘I don’t like giving it.’ Mesmer ponders her confession, then turns to me, amused. ‘So you’ve never…gotten head?’ ‘Never.’ He nods.. How they could be driving through acrowded city or going seventy along the interstate and they'd noticedthe same detail in the scenery blurring passed...a parked car in arestaurant parking lot, a particular cloud-formation floating across thehorizon, the slogan on a billboard of no special significance. Ithappened so often that it seemed it had to be more than just merecoincidence. She came to think of it as the opposite of the frustratingsensation she'd experienced with Claire of living in. I had to survive hours of having makeup put on and taken off, curlers in,curlers out before Carol was satisfied with the way I looked. I was stillfar from beautiful but I had to admit that I was on my way.That night Carol insisted that I forgo my usual shower for a scentedbubble bath. Laying back in the warm water I asked why it felt sodifferent. Carol smiled and said that she'd prepared it with bath oil tosoften my skin, just the way she did for herself. I wasn't about to arguewith her, so far.