It's not yet 7 in the morning, but am up already. Walter just went out to work, but not before luring me out of bed with freshly brewed coffee and Scottish shortbread fingers for breakfast. We--or should I say just I, since he was still up reading Agatha Christie--fell asleep a little past 1am. But he was up by 6am, puttering around the flat. Boy's a four a night-er, what can I say? And this is the earliest I've woken up in centuries.
As it should be obvious with the breakfast fare, though he promises it'll be better tomorrow, this flat is a bulimic girl's wetdream. The fridge's door is strewn with pictures, there's wine and coffee, plenty of tea, we had Bailey's as a celebratory drink last night, and there's also cheese. He says camembert is good with the shortbread, but I just wouldn't dare.
He also has lots of plants. Last night he complained that the girl who's supposed to take care of his plants did nothing but kill them. He was away for 25 days looking for work in Europe, and when he came back his water plants were all yellow and leaves were on the floor. He wants to get new plants.
What else? He's not a big fan of blankets. Big bed, and a basketball team could cohabit together in there and not see each other until two weeks later. I'm bringing out the blankets later. He also seems to be like 2 storeys taller than me. He joked it's because he's wearing 1 inch heels. His boots are Thai Royal Police standards and he wears a suit. Last night at the airport, I almost didn't recognize him in that outfit. I guess I'm used to the little boy Wally with the shorts and sneakers.
Anyway, he's left me 250B, wrote down an itinerary for me. I'm off to the zoo, Jim Thompson's house and a temple and some parks. Then I'm meeting him in an Au Bon Pain because he claims the Starbucks here is littered with jologs--moneyed ones, but jologs just the same. So that's what my day will be like. More later. With pictures.