Tuesday, 10 June 2014

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

Dear recalcitrant Rosalind:

My fresh bagel, my buttered crumpet, my mute trumpet – why no noise?

Apologies my recent missive ended rather abruptly: the postman came with a court summons.  I am beginning to think reason and freedom are wasted on me!  Perhaps it would better serve the human race if I were behind bars!! (It wouldn’t – although I could then write a memoir to rival Mein Kampf, even if world domination is not on my list of ambitions – I am a lover/painter/writer, not a soldier/rapist/hoodie).

Anyhow, joking aside, my life is really not much of a laughing matter just now (unless you have a particularly mean and, or black sense of humour).  I went to see my lawyer the other day (haven’t been since I was bizarrely accused of obstructing an emergency ambulance – how do certain charges get brought I ask!), and he says that I’d better offer Mr. UKIP 3750 as opposed to the original 3000.  What is Mr. UKIP going to do with the extra 750? Build a floating duck house exclusively for wildfowl hatched in the British Isles?!

Apropos, I had put 750 aside to continue the refurbishment of my kitchen (see previous letters – water damage etcetera).

And I should add I was found not guilty of obstructing the ambulance (charges dropped).

Still, it’s quite lonely up here in Primrose Hill without you, not to mention Fritz and Bruno barking their brains out every time the kettle boils.  Found an old computer (a ‘Laptop’ no less) in a hardware store the other day, and thanks to help from someone at Collins have got it running.  And I have internet too!  Can now track reviews of my book on the Amazon (I am told no sales happen on the Twitter).  There’s only one review so far and its quite good (I think): recommends me for the Bulwer-Lytton award (do you know it?).  Wish the reviewer had put a star-rating, however, I am told these are ‘important’.

Otherwise, I was exploring my ancestry this last fortnight (as I mentioned) and have uncovered some interesting, albeit disquieting, family history.  My grandfather it turns out was a conscientious objector which I view as shameful (King Queen and country etcetera), and it’s no wonder my parents never spoke of him; secondly, my great grandfather spent time in Holloway prison (I am yet to find out what for, although there is reference to Molly-coddling!?). 

What about your family history? A tale of drunkenness and mindless, bloody violence no doubt!

Are you for Scottish independence, or against?

Yours ever and always,

Norman.

… not in favour of Scottish independence.

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