so It was Claire's birthday on Sunday, out there a million miles away, touring the world, rescuing small children from avalanches, infecting everyone with her bubbly persona and all-round spunkiness. I dropped an email. It was uninspiring. I'll point out at this stage that usually after the first sentence, the words flow like blood from a severed aorta; not this time. I could't think of anything cool to say. Or interesting. Or insightful. Or anything. I was a little put out in the end and I had to finish it with a really lame half-joke just to attempt to drag it slightly out of the mud. But I got a reply... and guess who's just got home to Johannesburg? More importantly, guess who will be in Cape Town next week and is so excited and can't wait to see me again? A year has passed since I managed to miss the opportunity for the last time. It was as right-royal a fuck-up as you are ever likely to see or hear about, I can promise you that. The question is... what do I do this time? Do I go for it? Remembering that last time I didn't go for it because I'd rather be her friend if she was interested than have things get awkward between us; and because each time I attempted to test the proverbial waters, I got what I always thought to be a tacit "hold position" from her. The others reckon I wimped out on it, but they can all fuck off. I'm smiling so wide right now that I am in danger of losing my head from my top lip upwards. -d-