a one hundred and forty sixth story...'norman's thirty sixth love letter'.

Dear disappeared (?) Rosalind:

My star-light, my satellite, my gelignite – I am coming to find you before I explode! (Or you fade altogether).

Six days and no reply to emails.  I am sincerely worried.  But stay wherever you are for I will be on the first aeroplane from LGW (London Gatwick) tomorrow morning (4AM).  Should add I am flying to Madrid (middle of the country so I suppose I am hedging my bets as to your location … let me know?).

Spain is a strange place.  I do hope you haven’t fallen in with any street gangs, or been whisked away to a dungeon by some masked Zoro (in PE kit?).  And whatever you do, do not try the food!  You’ll end up with awkward guts for the rest of your life!  (I had a particularly bad experience with a ‘Seafood Paella’ on my last visit – when I was twelve).

I trust you have not been to the embassy yet?  But Rosalind you MUST.  Not only will it save me a good deal of time trying to find you in the Godforsaken place (Spain), but they (the embassy) can arrange your passage home within moments (thereby saving me the cost of a return flight, as well as travel paraphernalia – Stugeron and so forth).  (If you could go to the embassy within the next three hours I am fairly sure I could get a full refund from British Airways).

Apropos, I am reminded in all this of El Cid – wonderful Technicolor matinee starring the late, great Charlton Heston (former president of the NRA) and Sophia Loren (a real woman!).  Heston’s character is exiled by the King of Spain and Sophia’s Spanish queen sets out to find him (more or less).  Evidently, we have here a case of role reversal.  Yet I need clues, Rosalind!  Sometimes I want to say to you: ‘just be simple!’

Speaking (writing) of simplicity, this is the first time I’ve been glad not to have either of the dogs with me (Fritz and Bruno – remember them?).  Besides they probably still eat dogs in Spain so a fate worse than death (was lethal injection in both instances by the way) would most probably have awaited them (cooked alive with some Paprika and Saffron?).

Anyhow, I digress …

Go to the embassy, please, please, please; or, if impossible, I promise to discover you!

Feels like a test from the Lord (if he exists?).

Yours valiantly,

Norman.

… a crusader.