To the local cinema with friends last night to see Chéri, the new Stephen Frears movie. Based on the novel by Colette, it tells the story of Léa, a 49 year old courtesan and her 25 year old lover, Chéri (played by a louche looking Rupert Friend.) Having read the book, I can highly recommend the film, which is worth seeing just for the exquisite outfits that Michelle Pfeiffer gets to wear, and the opulent Belle Epoque decor of her boudoir and the lush garden scenes.
Back home with my own chéri (left), I paled when I read the birth date on his identity card (we were booking a summer break in Ibiza). I thought Luis (shown left but not a good photo as he hates being photographed and this was taken with my phone) was seven years younger than me, which was bad enough, but in fact, when he told me his age all those months ago, I must have misunderstood. Luis is actually twelve years younger than me. Aaghagh! Without realising it, I have, like Léa, acquired a toy boy (although I am younger than Léa and Luis is a little older than Chéri).
The only solace is that thanks to cigarettes, whisky and the Portuguese sun, my chéri looks much older than he is, so that as my friend Martine points out, the age-gap is not that noticeable.