Hi Eve,
First things first, it’s completely fine if you take time to reply. Honestly. I know work can swallow you whole and sometimes you just need to stare at a wall in silence for three days. That said, I’ll admit I may have checked my inbox with a bit more optimism than usual this past week. Not quite on tenterhooks, but somewhere in the general vicinity. Please don’t take that as pressure. Write when you want. Or don’t. I’ll just be here, loitering near the send and receive button like someone with far too much free time and a deeply questionable relationship with his inbox.
Now. Since you mentioned watching Himalayan videos, I thought I’d tell you a little more. Starting with Kathmandu, which is pure chaos in architectural form. Think motorbikes weaving between cows, people shouting from three different directions at once,and about seventeen temples all competing for your attention. It’s fascinating, and alive, and slightly overwhelming, like walking through a city that’s halfway through being rewritten in real time. I don’t say that to put you off, by the way. Just to prepare you. It’s a lot, but it’s worth it.
Because once you get into the mountains, properly into them, everything changes. The noise falls away. There’s a stillness that feels too big for words. It’s cold, obviously, and the air’s thin enough to make you question your life choices, but there’s something about standing that high up that rearranges your thoughts. Like someone’s tidied your brain while you weren’t looking. I’d love for you to see it one day.
Speaking of peaceful. I’m heading to St Claire in two weeks to look after Jon and Abby’s B&B while they take Layla to Disneyland. Just for the week. There’s only one guest booked in, self-sufficient and unlikely to cause trouble. Otherwise, it’ll just be me rattling around, pretending to be useful and possibly talking to houseplants.
And I was wondering. Would you want to come hang out?
No pressure, obviously. I know it’s a trek, and you’ve got work, but technically, you can do that from there just as well. You’d have your space. I’ll be on official guest-wrangling duty. You can be the mysterious behind-the-scenes figure who occasionally appears in the kitchen doorway looking judgmental and elegant. I just thought it’d be nice to see you. In person. Maybe even talk without the send button getting in the way.
I promise to bring photos from my Himalaya trips, though, be warned, my haircut was criminal and I was essentially a lanky, overconfident twenty-two-year-old with more ambition than moisturiser. But there’s the occasional nice view in the background if you can get past my stupid grin.
Let me know either way. And really, take your time. Just thought I’d ask.
Aaron
To:Aaron
From:Eve
Date:03 March
Subject:Re: Mountains, emails, and questionable haircuts
Hi Aaron,
Just a quick one.
Going back to St Claire sounds like an amazing idea. So good, in fact, that I may have mentally started packing a suitcase before I finished reading your email. Though only in a light, perfectly reasonable way. I haven’t actually taken anything out of the wardrobe. Yet.
But only if you’re sure. I wouldn’t want to be in your way or disrupt your very serious guest-wrangling responsibilities. I’m happy to stay quietly out of the way, or help with whatever needs doing, includingbut not limited to excessive tea-making and criticising your organisational system. Gently, of course.
I’ll write properly soon. I just wanted you to know I’m up for it.
Eve
To:Aaron
From:Eve
Date:05 March
Subject:Still up for it (unless you’re not)
Hi again,
I realised my last email was a bit abrupt. Sorry about that. I hit send and immediately remembered that most normal people use more than four sentences when accepting an invitation. So here’s the longer version, in case you thought I was secretly being held hostage by enthusiasm.
That said, I do mean it. If you’ve changed your mind or the week’s become more complicated, it’s absolutely fine. No awkwardness at all. Just say the word and I’ll stay put and grumble about the Norfolk wind like usual.
I may have done some further reading. Your Kathmandu description intrigued me, so I went down a bit of a rabbit hole and ended up watching a video diary by a woman from Austria who filmed her whole trip. All of it. Every temple, every chai break, everyquestionable toilet situation. She was very thorough. And a little intense. But I can see what you meant about the chaos. There’s a sort of layered, humming energy to it. Like a city balancing seventeen things at once without ever dropping any of them.
That said, I also discovered you can apparently head straight for the hills fairly quickly. So maybe Kathmandu wouldn’t have to be endured for too long.
Anyway. I should probably stop fantasising about an entirely hypothetical Himalayan trip and focus on the one that’s actually real. St Claire feels like a good place to start. Smaller mountains. Fewer yaks.
