13 June 2027
Sunday. I am told the lesson yesterday was a disaster. I would describe it as a disagreement about geometry.
The waiter folds swans. Beautiful, crisp, self-satisfied swans. I fold rectangles. A rectangle is honest. It lies flat beside the plate and asks for nothing. A swan sits up and expects to be admired, and I have enough of that at the table already.
He tried to teach me. I produced several birds, which I named, in order, a duck, a goose and a modern sculpture. He laughed. I did not.
This morning I found one of my geese on U.’s mantelpiece. He has not mentioned it, and I shall not either. But I have moved it slightly to the left, so it is centred, because if a thing is going to be displayed it should be displayed properly.
Back to work. My dinners run to an hour, and with the welcome and the debrief a guest should allow an hour and a half. That is not long enough to fold a swan properly. It is quite long enough to fold a rectangle.
— B., your host
