Dear Rosalind:
My sage, my rage, my inspiration for the ink on this page - how are you?
It was frankly a shame that you did not make it, have not made it up to the Heath to see me following my last letter - I am only here to help. PLEASE UNDERSTAND.
Everybody goes through 'trouble' in life, as I - reading between the lines of your as yet to materialise reply - can (nevertheless) intimate you are experiencing at this present time. But why be all Woe is Me about it? Buck up, as my father used to say; I don't mean to sound unkind or insensitive, you are still (yes, still!) the toffee apple of my eye, the fireworks in my belly - and it remains that no one could hold a Roman candle to you ...
... Yet, I digress.
Rosalind, those damn publishers (well one of them at least) have, or has, in a moment of astonishing foolishness, rejected my book. I could only swallow my pride and my hurt (although I confess I did write them a strongly worded letter outlining their duncery). How could they not see the next Mario Puzo landing slap bang in the middle of their sweaty lap(s)!?
Oh well, we must be philosophical mustn't we? Hope remains, resting in the greasy grasp of the editors at Collins, and, of course, from my point of view in you, my rose - you, my vessel of promise. In the future when all is well we'll laugh about this, and those blasted book-men (women?) will be considered as daft as Decca A and R people (Decca rejected the Beatles, Rosalind: John, Paul, George, and Pete).
Had Fritz castrated the other day I should inform you. Found dog spunk on one of the legs of my satinwood writing table, and (as you can imagine) it was the last straw. He's been pretty quiet (depressed?) since, but won't be looking for glory holes in the kitchen dresser any more, thank heavens. Cruel to be kind etcetera.
Yes, yes, yes, Rosalind, I will be famous some day, and perhaps righteous and holy too, we'll see. Would you rather I behave like a saint or a sinner? I can behave however you wish, I can play various roles, life: a stage!
Yours endearingly,
Norman.
... a player.
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