Wednesday, 11 June 2014

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

Dear deliberating Rosalind:

My Pontius Pilate, my violet, my spray of lavender - how goes it?

Either you are in the process of attempting (most likely in vain) to initiate legal proceedings against me (and you wouldn't be the first - have settled for 3250 with UKIP rep by the way, though this is not a precedent) ... OR, you are in the midst of an emotional crisis which will end up with you leaving your Gym teacher friend and coming back to Camden (Primrose Hill).

Which could it be!? Don't tell me ... Yet!!

I wonder (a lot) what you did with my last letter.  Perhaps it is now with your attorney? But if you're torn, sew another stitch for me, and allow my love for you to embroider your heart!  (The sticking plasters routinely offered by Gym teachers won't do - they know precious little about first aid, will offer only Lucozade, which would be both disingenuous and utterly missing the point; as well as phenomenally stupid!).

(I can't countenance stupidity, besides half of the time it doesn't know who or what it's looking at).

The weather has been rather nice hasn't it though?  Delightful to see so many people out and enjoying the sunshine on the Heath this Saturday - except litterers and grown men who insist on flying their children's kites irresponsibly (when suddenly a quiet afternoon saunter or family picnic turns into the Battle of Britain!). And hoodies and flashers, of course; I wonder if flashers are more 'active' in the summer months?  It would make sense.

Ah! The British and their fascination with meteorology!  Who else would have invented the Stevenson Screen? (rhetorical question: the English did).  But it is an interesting national character trait isn't it? (I'm being rhetorical again: it really is - the weather).

Say, Monte Carlo has a damned gorgeous climate - if we ever get there, Rosalind, if we ever ...

Indeed , the 'if we ever' somewhat depends on how Two Broken Hearts sells (not forgetting, in the meantime, how two broken hearts mend - you and I; yours and mine).  Navigating the Amazon, I see the book now has a rating of 3 stars out of a possible 5.  We've a 5 star review - from an old prep-school friend named Simkins, even if his Amazon avatar is a little mysterious: 'toastrack11; a 3 star review (with some fair points); and a 1 star review.  It never ceases to astound me how profoundly ignorant some people are!  This particular hatchet-job describes my tone as 'sanctimonious' which I simply don't believe at all, and I know you and (many) others would doubtless ridicule the merest suggestion that I am complacent and self-righteous.  Whatever this galled gadfly thinks, mark my words, when I am on Richard and Judy (or Radio Four) flushed with success, I will be having the last laugh!

Goodness me!  I have just seen the time on my travel-clock; time then I was travelling up to bed.

Yours languidly,

Norman.

... yawning, but hopefully not coming across fawning.

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