This is a joint message from both Viggo and myself.
The readers-between-the-lines (you, in other words) have discovered that I have recently discovered that all was not well in marriage land. Again in other words: I have been dumped. Jilted. Betrayed. Found wanting. Found lacking. Found to be approaching sixty-thus-sexlessly-age. Take your pick. Take them all, I have.
I prefer to use: we have drifted apart so far, that land was totally out of sight.
Don't worry. I'll survive. My blog will survive. My posts will survive, and I will try not to turn maudlin on you.
But it is essential that you, my readers, will come to realize that the Renée Koopman that you know has seamlessly morphed into the Renée Grashoff she was unto 1990.
That means there is suddenly another name on top of this blog. It also means that I cannot change my email address simply because of the enormous logistics involved, but that I will have to change it in due course. I will let you know.
To the ones that have taken the trouble to send me sweet and uplifting messages: thank you. You have no idea (no idea!) how much this has meant to me.
Talk to you soon!
Renée
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