Wednesday, 23 February 2011

The Case Of The Missing Mudguards.


My Dear old Ouseph,

I took a stroll this afternoon, down to the edge, just as you had suggested. 

I bumped into Aubrey, who seemed skittish with worry. It transpired that he had missed his appointment at the orthodentist. 

When quizzed as to why, he became very defensive, and insisted that 'Ouseph wouldn't be so forward in his inquisition'.

This annoyed me.

"Take my advice... I don't use it anyway", I said, pointing at his face.

"A closed mouth gathers no foot", I continued, now pointing at his foot.

He nodded in a sort of revised acknowledgement, and shuffled away, humming to himself.

There were lots of cyclists on the footpaths. 

I encountered one poor soul who was an advert for the existence of mudguards, such was the filthy spray and mess on his pantaloons and lower back.

Yawning and stretching blindly, I knocked one poor pedaller off his saddle, and stood aghast as he pirouetted ungainly into the Thames. 

You would have been proud. 

Are you still rehearsing for The Tempest? 

And do you mind if I eat the soda bread leftover from your last visit?

Very best,



Dear Pitkin,

Many apologies for my tardy response - I've been staying with my sister in Shatterick and have been unable to respond until now. 

I'm sorry to hear about your encounter with Aubrey. He hasn't really been himself since Stephanie's operation, and now, what with all the caterwauling about benefit cheats he's more paranoiac than ever. The last time I saw him he started on some conspiracy guff about Jews and international shipping, which, as you can imagine, left me really rather upset. Still, I shouldn't pay him too much mind - according to Lorn, he hasn't been seen at the club for several weeks.

Rehearsals, this time around, have been a disaster. What do they teach nine year olds in school these days? The one saving grace has been our Caliban - of which I shall say more when I see you. As for the rest, one might as well be doing H.M.S. Pinafore... again. 

I trust this finds you well. I know how these seasonal transitions can leave you blue. Do let me know if you'd like me to stop sending the parcels.

As ever, 


p.s. That wasn't soda bread.


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