The twins moved out yesterday and I now know for certain exactly how Dan feels when I leave NYC.   I felt a mixture of sadness and relief.

I needed my home back.  I need to be on my own now.

I need not to wait up at night wondering if they were ever coming home.

They have gone to live and work with friends of mine in the valley.

The bedrooms have been returned to their neat selves.  The fridge has been emptied of Enchiladas and grated cheese, peanut butter and jelly.  The bathroom shelves: no more contact lens solution, acne medication.  The pile of sneakers by the door, all gone.

They hugged me as they left but I have no use for unsolicited affection.  I don’t want any flesh next to mine unless I pay for it.

I don’t want you to stay here.  That was a joke.  Of course you can.  Come on, come stay.  Then I will wait for you to leave.  I can’t wait.  Just don’t stay too long.  Don’t over stay your welcome.  

Less interest in hosting these days.  Especially here, here on the mountain.   Just leave me alone.  Let me wake up at dawn, in my own time.  Let me wander naked, grind coffee, watch bad morning ‘news’ without prying eyes.

I listen to BBC Radio 4 on-line.  The Archers, Front Row and Question Time.  I miss British news.

Somebody blew up Oslo.

Both Willy and The Little Dog are learning to love each other.  They play in the evenings as I settle in to watch Rachel Maddow or bad but addictive HGTV.

I am less likely to write my novel.  I want it to be finished NOW.

My head is in Paris.

My head is with Bella and Esther Freud whose father died yesterday.  I never met Lucian Freud.  I don’t know Esther very well but I spent a great deal of time with Bella and her family.

Bella once told me how she felt about her father painting her naked.  I’ll write about that one day.  Now is not the time.

Did you ever see Freud’s portrait of Andrew Parker-Bowles?

If his Leigh Bowery portraits shows compassion for a fellow human being, his portrait of Andrew Parker-Bowles is perhaps his most insolent, scathing, and melancholy study.

Sprawled in his guards uniform, Parker-Bowles – the former husband of Camilla Duchess of Cornwall – evokes, with his red striped trousers, glamorous 19th-century images of officers and imperial heroes.

Yet, he looks exhausted, saddened, wiped out.

Look at the way Freud paints diamonds and pearls.