Well, it’s been done now.

Or, rather, booked.

And, even though it’s over a week away, it is, kinda, scaring the shit out of me.

Which is stupid, I know, but that’s the way it is.

Of course, I have a list of things to talk about given that’s it’s over 15 years since I last paid a visit. And it’s the list that’s been growing in all those years.

And, then, of course, she’ll be Italian with all these weird, Italian beliefs.

And she’ll want me to do things that I don’t want to do (apart from the obvious things, I mean, that I won’t do anyway).

And I suppose most of the things on my list are, well, more or less, nothing. But you never know. One of them might actually be SOMETHING. And I would prefer if none of them were anything at all. But it isn’t as if I am 20.

I’ve thought about writing the list down. So I don’t forget. Or, rather, so I don’t clam up and am unable to remember any of them at the time that I’m there. Or after I mention the first one.

And, anyway, what’s the most important? How do I prioritise them?

And, of course, there’s one that I just might not mention.

I know I should but I’m not sure that I’m ready. At least, not this time. Maybe next time? If there’s a next time.

Of course, there has to be a first time.

And just because it’s booked doesn’t mean ……….

Well, you know what I mean.

But i must try to overcome this resistance. This internal resistance.

I mean, sooner or later, it has to be done, doesn’t it?

Or, does it?

Well, let’s see how I feel next week.

Maybe I’ll feel better about it?

Although I doubt it, to be honest.

It’s just an ordeal.

To be gone through.

To be suffered.

I guess I’ll suffer, then.

Maybe.