Chivalry did not die with Don Quixote. If you read my blog a couple of days ago, you read about my losing my hat in a ravine. I took this picture the next day -- when it wasn't raining -- and you can see the bridge I was standing on and the gorge it crosses. I really hated losing that hat. Imagine my surprise the next day when we were about to get on the bus and leave; Richard Frisbie, who shall forever be my champion, presented me with the hat. It was totally soaked but none the worse for wear. Richard had gone for an early morning walk and climbed down into the gorge and retrieved it!
That was not his only act of kindness. Throughout the trip he was unfailingly cheerful and never lost patience when one or the other of us got a little tired and cranky -- or just plain diva-ish. Then at our dinner the last night, he noticed I was shivering because the private dining room where we were going to eat was chilly. Next thing I know, he's talked the waitress out of a tablecloth and is draping it around me. And I was cold enough that I wore it all through dinner. I have no pride where my comfort is concerned! I called Richard my knight -- but I was wrong. He's absolutely a prince!
1 comment:
Nice. Definitely a prince. I take back what I said about New Yorkers, Richard.
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