I wonder if that’s a Citron Pressé, Graham? Don’t know if the following is ‘liberally sprinkled’ enough, but toujours le je ne sais quoi and Fingerspitzengefühlkeit.
Dear Clare,
How nice to hear from you for the first time since schooldays. No, I never received my call-up papers, or appel sous les draps, as the French would say and so know nothing of the Stert und Drank or Blöd und Eis of the military life for your book. Not to worry, I think it would have been just demiasado of a nightmare or peccadillo in my case. It’s a time of odium cum dignitatem at the tranquil back of beyond, or el quinto pito, for me these days. Chacun à son goo and all that.
To return à nos croûtons, yes, we can meet on Thursday in the buffet at Waterloo, which is relatively sine prole, as you suggest. Ah, what poetry Charles Hugo made of that name!
Waterloo! Waterloo! Waterloo! morne gare!
Où le spectre en plein jour raccroche le passant . . .
Hasta huevos! Sam
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