Tuesday, 3 June 2014

a one hundred and twentieth story...'norman's tenth love letter'

Dear, delicate Rosalind:

My still out of reach peach, my tangerine dream – how are you today?

I was overjoyed to receive your brief note of thanks for the stationery I sent you, and in blue, black, red and green!  How imaginative!  Although I was slightly perplexed that you chose to return the other four blank postcards – are you about to start using an email programme?  For my part I cannot stand computers.  We are of a different generation aren’t we?  We are Mother Nature’s offspring, not the grubby spawn of technology!

I am, however, the owner of a mobile telephone.  I’m not entirely convinced I know how to use the damned thing, but I do know, Rosalind, how to receive telephone calls.  Phone me and see how rapidly I am able to answer – in the blink of an eye, the bat of an eyelash, at the flap of an ear (?!).  Text messaging, be warned, remains beyond my capability; besides, as a man of letters, I loathe the new phenomenon of text speak (txt spk).  It appears, in this day and age, we are time poor enough not to bother with vowels.

Are you reading anything at the moment?  If not I enclose a sample chapter from my book (read it and imagine yourself an editor at Collins!).  I do hope it isn’t too violent for the female disposition, but I am a man’s man, Rosalind, and therefore I must write like a man.

Should say, however, I am currently at something of a loose end, and consequently drinking too many cups of coffee: can make me feel irritable, so forgive me if I come across (on paper) as a little piquant.  Apparently the guideline daily allowance is five and half cups, I have been on ten – all this emptiness is making me the equivalent of an opium addict!  Still, if it leads me to write like Coleridge, I am fine with becoming thus …

Indeed, before I discovered the literary ingredients of my novel inside me, I did write some fairly decent love poetry.  Here’s a new one about someone special (guess who?!):

English Rose, pink and scented
When were such fine things invented
Did Cupid once roam this earth
Spreading seeds of beauty with all his worth?
For never have I in all my life
Believed in love enough to take a wife
But you, fair Rosalind, have changed everything -
I long to touch your flower, and wear your ring.

J’espere avec impatience pour ta reponse!

Yours amorously,

Norman.

… French O-Level, grade A.

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