I had a visitor. She brought French Camembert as present. She had a
glint in her eyes, still from the olden days when the way to my heart
went via cheese. I am a connaisseur and was an addict. The miracle of
cheese could change my mood from depressed to dreamy happiness at
once.
That was before the cholesterol scare. I got that down from dangerous
to normal by exceptional willpower: changing my diet, not by popping
pills. That means real cheese - forget low fat imitations - real
cheese it out. And Camembert is outest.
Maybe later, I said and hid the sin. Where it remained for 7 days of
nag and struggle.
Last night I thought: just one bite. For old times’ sake.
When I opened the package my nose felt like dancing. I closed my eyes
and saw happiness. Free-range happiness, not one squeezed and pushed
where things are narrow.
When I opened my eyes again that Camembert was gone. Eaten in pure
ecstasy. I went to bed on a high. Dreamed of meadows red with Edam
flowers. There were wheels of Emmentaler driving about. From sunny
trees dripped rich fat Camembert. And all was packaged in gorgeous
odour of ripe Stilton.
Then I woke up in awful pain. There was police in every arthritic
joint, shooting wildly at a body who, steeped in mediocrity, had dared
a detour straight through paradise. I was amazed that the body could
react so quickly. It must have been poison for it.
I hoppled out of bed weighed down by all that new cholesterol. I made
it to the fridge. There it stared at me, a nag and struggle: Camembert
No 2. Miserable weeks are now ahead. Or at least one of them. Because
life is tough if you have exceptional will power. It makes the giving-
in so hard.
Klaus and Rusty
http://www.oz-greetings.com.au
Nature & Wilderness