a prince of love in every way

I have always been proud of my excellent memory.  I can tell you exactly what people said, what they wore, how they behaved, from years back.  No one queries it, which is how I know I’m right. I am staying in the apartment in Aix en Provence that I first visited as a fifteen year old.  It’s not unusual to visit places you came to as a child, often you visit periodically over your life.  I guess it’s slightly less usual to have had a forty year gap. Several things have struck me.  First, I’d not have recognised it, in a million years.  I didn’t remember where it was in the town, the colour, size or shape of the building.  The family owned (and still does) two apartments in the same block and I could have sworn (did in fact swear) that the upper one was across the way rather than directly above.  Wrong.  I also was sure that the bathroom was larger, much [...]