Dear (but not near enough) Rosalind:
My earth, my wind and fire, my desire - how are you, pray?
Silence is golden to some, but to me it is worth less than tin (is that worth anything nowadays? Perhaps in scrap metal, I don't know). Are you out of post-it notes? Or without graphite? Or ink? Has my counsel upset you? Are you touch sensitive? (A lot of questions I realise, but I am only trying to comprehend).
In summary: do write.
You are so beautiful, Rosalind, so beautiful I cannot forget your face. Call me Paris, if you like; you are Helen of Troy (maybe my Achilles Heel to boot) ... excuse the Homeric pun ... That said it is beginning to feel like my courtship of fair Rosalind (you) is worthy (for bravery and commitment) of a chapter in the Iliad (ever read it?); my love letters, songs to a siren.
Just had my next door neighbour knock and complain my washing machine is leaking through her ceiling: I've checked, it isn't, and yet she still kicked up a fuss. Getting through to people in some situations is nearly impossible - lots of bad comms around!
But what about your comms (communications) Rosalind? At risk of upsetting your further, I humbly suggest there is room for improvement. But you'll no longer be short of writing materials - I enclose five blank postcards (Waterstones no less), and a four colour biro. It would be nice to hear from you (I'll refrain from doing the Bruce Forsyth thing).
Anyway, how would you like to go the theatre? Hampstead has a marvellous group of amateur players, not a single television star in sight, and believe me they are all the better for it. When my book is published, will I allow the publishers (Collins) television serial rights? Absolutely not! That would be selling out - how can Miss (?) Rowling countenance her millions? I'd give nearly all of it to charity if I were in her position - the Rotarians most likely.
Yes, the Hampstead players, I sense that you would love them. Amateur dramatics is under-rated, you know. Oh but I lecture too much! (Don't take it as an insult to your intelligence - if you were to ask me my favourite bit about you, Rosalind, it would be your mind, though that's not to say I don't appreciate your molecular structure - I did say you were so beautiful earlier in this letter after all, didn't I?).
Ah. Must go - I've just noticed standing water on the kitchen floor.
Write!
Yours faithfully,
Norman.
... mopping, not moping.
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