Repetition

Of course, you should never try to repeat anything, not exactly. You can't go back: it didn't take Constantin Constantius to show us that, even if we did so for entirely for the right reasons. Even if it was in the name of friendship that we went back to do exactly the same thing. On Monday, having arrived at the conference days early, as we always arrive days early, we caught the train to Titisee and walked out along the lake to a guesthouse I had read about in my guide.

There it was, framed by great trees: the guesthouse that immediately welcomed us in, which sat us in the best seats overlooking the lake. W. ordered us a bottle of Sekt, which I'd never had and we were waited on for lunch by a graceful and gentle waitress. Did she bring us a sample delicacy from the kitchen before out main course? Didn't she advise us in her charming English of the pick of the menu?

We congratulated ourselves as we walked back to the station, and resolved to share our experiences, this time with our friends. You should share everything with your friends, W. has always said.

And so, a few days later, we walked out with them to the guesthouse, which we found closed, inhospitable; we waited, dawdling by the now busy road in the rain, cars roaring by us, until they opened, and this time there was no graceful and gentle waitress, and no sample delicacy. They seemed not to want to serve us; they took us to a damp corner of the garden and left us there for a full hour before they took our order. The Sekt was stale and flat, and when it came, the lunch devastated us. Even the walk back to the station was a disaster, car fumes filling our heads and the ceaseless rain pattering on our heads …

How many times did we apologise to our friends? How many times did we tell them that it wasn't like this last time? In our hearts, we feared they wouldn't believe us, despite our utmost desire to do our best for them. In our hearts, we feared they thought it was some vague kind of revenge for one of their misdeeds; we feared they would feel as apologetic as we did, given that all we wanted to do is to grab them by their lapels and say sorry, sorry, sorry.