Tuesday, 17 June 2014

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

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Dear Rosalind:

My departed, my possibly gone forever, my never never land – perhaps there will be no nation of two!

I am scrawling this on the back of a taxi chit (hence small hand-writing) in the hope it may reach you (if right postage attached).  I assume it will arrive after my email of earlier this afternoon (sent from hotel)...    

… The burly chap who was waiting to use the machine (see email from hotel), doesn’t in fact eat horses for breakfast (some sort of egg combo instead – a Spanish omelette?), but DOES drive a taxi.  Name is Josep, and he was to be my ride back to the airport terminal, however, instead I have asked him to drive me into the wilderness.

I have decided to JACK IT IN, and go in search of the real El Cid! (And perhaps I will also find the reincarnation of Sophia Loren to be with me eventually!). (Not sure if she’s dead yet, in fact, but can't check right now).

Anyhow, remember, sweet Rosalind: whatever happens I love you (always have, always will).

Space running short…so this is ‘Adios’.

NG

… Your Hamlet.

----** Bonotaxi: Traslados LowCost desde solo 24 eur Precios y reservas OnLine 24 h **----
Tel: 0033 902 222 171

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