In the autumn of 2004 I found myself suddenly relocating to Belgium, at the expense of an attractive job offer in Italy. It was one of those major forks in the road, the kind of big decision that could transform a life. Which, for better or for worse, is exactly what it did.
“Get out of here!!!” screamed Lucie, slamming her fist down on the kitchen counter. “I’m starving, I need to eat, I can’t deal with anything until I’ve eaten!!!” Grabbing my coat, I made for the door, determined not to look back at her as I left. We’d only been living together for a week and I was already getting used to the tantrums. This time I didn’t need to see her wild eyes and flushed cheeks, or indeed the curls of saliva that formed at the sides of her mouth when she was angry. As attractive as Lucie undoubtedly was, seeing her in one of these all too frequent moods was not a pretty sight.