I wasn’t always the adventurous type. Exploring needs an ally, for me anyway. But today I had my ally, and a sedentary day was far from my mind. A questionable psychiatrist once told me that coffee would be the cure for my anxiety. I didn’t believe her, but here I was sipping a flat white, the caffeine hit amplifying my nervous twitching. If the day’s events went smoothly, I could go home with a clear mind, one of the more underrated pleasures in life.

“She’s gorgeous isn’t she?” the waiter’s thick French accent scythed through my introspection. Some would be offended, exasperated at a potential unwanted advance. This was not an uncommon occurrence in our travels. Andrea would bashfully smile and I would thank the (usually) good-natured man on her behalf as she would be too embarrassed to want to reply. But what would we like to eat, he asked, feet crashing down back to reality. Did it really matter what I ordered anyway? We would end up sharing our exquisitely named but underwhelming dishes, and then end up filling ourselves on whatever local desserts caught our fancy. The compliment stirred me to finally get going however, and put all my planning into effect.

To be frank, travailing anywhere across Europe would draw smiles from Andrea. Manchester suited us to a tee practically, but any prolonged stretch of dreary grey mornings brought restlessness in both of us. Thus my focus on lush scenery in planning this weekend getaway. Hiking with Andrea was always a challenge. For such a small, slight girl, she walked with such power and vigour. Her face, feigned incredulity at my sluggishness mixed with her cheeky smile provided moments frozen in time. As ever, I paused to savour the moment, but this time also to give my old legs much needed relief. The best camera will always be in our minds, because an image no matter how well captured will never be able to encompass the freshness of the air, the vague smell of pine that accompanied the face I was so focused on.

Is there a more stressful choice than choosing a gelato flavour? I was always forced to choose desserts for her, whether she was present for the selection or in absentia. “Your guess is as good as mine, and without the self-regret”. It’s shallow I know, but I often matched my choice to what she was wearing. Strawberry to go with her summery pink blouse would be today’s pick, along with my ever present tiramisu.“You sure you can finish these?” wisecracked the old ice cream savant. “It’s a hot day compared to England!” I fired back, genially of course.

“How did you meet?” Ah another common question on our travels. This time the owner of the inquisition was a kindly old man, also pondering the construction of the Chartres Cathedral without needing to use a smartphone. Is it overly sappy to say that I can’t remember much of the location but more of just her? It may have been at a gym actually. Or maybe a party, I’m actually not sure. What I do clearly recall, as I said, was her. With a bright orange T-shirt, she stood out instantly. Her hair was adorably long, eyes…I could go on of course, but again, too sappy? What I will say though is that the moment we locked eyes, my life changed forever. And that is not too sappy.

It really is a rarity nowadays to use transportation for the pleasure of the ride, rather than the pressing need to reach a destination. Thus our journey home was far from a chore, just another soothing addition. Saying that you love watching a girl sleep is an expression that quickly changes from creepy to endearing. Detestable if regarding a stranger, but a show of affection from a partner. My feelings toward Andrea in her frequent slumbers on trains were no different. She would always tilt her head to her right, whether there was a window present there or not. What did she dream of though? Ahh her mind would surely be jumping to the next adventure, focused as ever on her immediate future. To my detriment I always placed an excessive emphasis on future concerns, with frivolous worries about finances often clouding a golden moment. I’ll never regret a poor investment as much as I would long to cherish being in one of those ‘frozen in time’ seconds to my utmost capacity, mind crystal clear.

“She really is stunning”. Again my stupor broken abruptly, this time by the humble train ticket collector. I simply nodded and handed over my crumpled ticket, a single tear staining my polaroid.