Dear, delectable Rosalind:
My Madonna, my diva, my one and only pain reliever – so glad to know you are alive and well!
You can’t IMAGINE my unfettered ecstasy at finding a letter
from you in the mail on my return from the dentist today (and such ingenuous
use of the limited space available on a post-it note!).
Yes, I realise NOW may not be the time for US. But isn’t love too irrational a state of mind
to make any sensible judgements about the present, and indeed what is to come?
(No need to respond on this if you haven’t any more writing materials – I
assume that was the reason for the post-it note).
Being one of two in a loving relationship is, at first, a
bit like being blown apart, and then having to rebuild yourself, but in a way
that is able to support the other. It
may be that my half of our psychological pleasure palace for two is just a little
more developed than your half of it (dare he (I) say such a thing to such a
woman – and yet, dare he (I) does (do)!).
By the way, did you ever read Dan Dare as a child? The
boys-own comic about the True British Hero who stood against the invading
Martians (‘Treens’) … he was given the moniker ‘Pilot of the Future’, and I
guess that’s what I am, a pilot whose plane is heading into the future. You’ll
want to be on board, Rosalind, if I get a ‘yes’ from one of those publishers
(they are taking their time, which probably means serious consideration).
I’ve always dreamed of being a professional author, as you
know, and when my book is published, and then the sequel, the one after that,
and so on, perhaps it will make economic sense for an editor to publish my
letters (something that happens to all great authors, from Hemmingway to
Archer). And who will be the star of an
edition of my collected letters?
Rosalind: You!
Speaking of the future, do you vote? I can’t remember. My old school pal, Simkins, is running for
election in the local generals (?) next year.
Has some odd views about one or two issues though, and doesn’t seem to
advocate much for the Arts; we writers, Rosalind, have to subsist in between
creative harvests* (*my term).
And just before I sign off, Bruno was put to sleep this
week, you should know. Still, your
letter ended my grief in the manner of a burst of sunshine on a dark, rainy
day.
Yours sanguinely,
… pilot of the future.
No comments:
Post a Comment