a one hundred and seventeenth story...'norman's seventh love letter'

Dear, delicious Rosalind:

My feast, my appetiser, my main and dessert – how are you?

I am worried for you, you know.

In your last (and third) letter (the ratio is improving at least!), you said you agreed with my psychoanalyst that I am indeed ‘impenetrable’, and you also said something that hurt me - sorry, darling Rosalind, but you did! 

For your information, I am not ‘very sick’, as you suggest.  You confuse my (typically) cheery, positive and, in general, optimistic manner with illness?!  Perhaps, Rosalind, it is you whose head needs inspection.  Women of your age … with the clock ticking (and no babies), well, there’s a syndrome! (can’t recall the name, or any further details).

Come up to Hampstead, my love, you seem flustered, and fresh air and the splendid views of our stupendous city will do you good.  And Fritz would love some female company (be warned, however, he seems to be rather randy of late – humping tables, chairs, anything that stands upright).  The mind can become knotty and dotty (we writers know this as well as anyone), and – don’t be cross – poisonous.  Poison pen, poisoned mind etcetera.  Come up to Hampstead and I’ll help drain the foul sump. 

O! Rosalind, you poor thing.  But never mind, the devil won’t be inside you for very much longer (so long as you come up to Hampstead and see me – I will drive him, her (?) out).

Now, what’s happening at my end?  Well, since your last letter I am spending most of my waking hours thinking about YOU.  Do you like disco?  I don’t, but there is a song called something like that. 

And I bet you can dance.  I, however, stumble gracelessly around on two guilty feet with not even the foggiest sense of rhythm.  Then again, dancing to jazz is immeasurably more difficult than dancing to disco (I imagine), what with the time signatures inherent in both.

Time, our old friend and father!

Got to catch the late post (have drafted a letter to the publishers requesting news, and containing some advice on potential fonts, formats – book stuff).

Yours,

Norman

…healer and lover friend.