Michael the ballet dancer is sending a steady stream of emails from France outlining reports on the last three classes he is giving today, the state of his suitcase and the state of the stinky Epoisse cheese.(It will be liquid by the time it gets here)
Alice who used to be Frank asks if I am prepared for the fact that Michael might now be fat and bald. I don't think so. I think I will spot him a mile off. He may look at me and say "What happened?" Last time I saw Michael I had hair down to my waist, ha, ha.
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