the letters i wish i'd written...

2011-12-04T00:46:00.007Z

Dear Readers,

One of my last posts taught me a lesson. A lesson so valuable it impeded putting anything on here for a long time.

I had some people respond to my short film project, but for the most part a polite ambivalence was the general rsvp, you know, I will show up, but do I have to wear a tux? Just because some people tune in regularly, does not a project secure.

Since then, I have traveled a lot, seen many things, studied, learned a bit (God forbid), did a few things wrong, set a few things right and hoped for the best.

Hope is a wonderful, undeniable, thing of great beauty, the truly beautiful things in life are almost always invisible. Without hope, we are nothing, without hope, we simply bumble along ignoring what we really want, in the place of what everyone else expects, and what it is we desire. I think, I may have, for the shortest of time, misplaced my hope.

I had an idea, a idea about what it means to be a woman, an idea that involves a self portrait, a kohl pencil or a lipstick, choose your weapon,the pen may well be mightier than the sword, but there ain't nothing beats a good lipstick! For a whole calendar month of your time, you will also need a small window everyday that requires thought, a camera, and a really good facial cleanser. An idea, that doesn't simply involve a vague letter and an uninformative invitation on a small blog, with an even smaller readership (no false modesty here, check the stats), asking you something too personal to share based on, aren't we kin, do we not all have vaginas? We blog, therefore we spill... Nope, not this time, if you want in, great, if you don't, then enjoy the video and remember, there is nothing anyone in this world can ever say about you, that should have the power to alter how you feel about yourself.

I would like to share it, I would like to put together a photographic project ( yes, this said film before, but lets simplify), for this, I do indeed need subjects. I would like to make it based on women. I would like to put together a project that requires a little thought, barely any skill and a finished product.

If you are interested, there is an email address three inches to your left, look now, a little further, up a bit,too far,back a bit,just right baby bear, just right...You may respond, you may not, but the lesson I have learned is that this, should not, affect my effort...

Yours sincerely,

Broken Nature...

2011-08-10T13:57:00.003+01:00

Dear Human Nature,

My mind boggles at the blanket coverage, singular form, identikit name that you bare. No two Human Nature's are alike and yet we refer to you like it's one size fits all. People dismiss things as Human Nature all the time, yet I don't feel it would ever be in my nature to rob, steal or hurt another intentionally. It makes me wonder if the unthinkable were to happen on our planet, would we look after each other or would it really be survival of the fittest? I feel like I am looking at wolves, running in ferocious packs and I'm trying to think of the times in my life when I too got caught up in the momentum of others. I think the last time may have been a boyband phase as a thirteen year old, no less all consuming but infinitely less damaging, unless you count my family's ear drums.

The bright side appeared in the last 36 hours, people bandied together to protect their business' and chase off the scum who were trying to destroy them. Good folk came out afterwards and cleaned up the destruction, and they did it through twitter, another example of pack mentality, (for what is twitter, if not one big gang?), being used for good. Maybe the one common bond of Human Nature is to feel like you belong to something bigger than yourself, whether that be good or bad, the desire to be included is really two sides of the same coin and your fate is decided on the thing that makes you flip.

I have yet to meet a person who was exactly like another, sure we can dismiss individuals for many reasons, say they are the same, but really, when you dig a little deeper, everyone is so different, it's hard to believe we all came into being in the same fashion. My fingers are crossed for the good side of you, I hope you win, I hope kindness, care and a chance to highlight why this has happened in the first place are put at the forefront and after all the material things that were broken have been fixed, we start to tackle what is really broken in our society....

Yours sincerely,

Running With The Pack...

2011-08-09T22:49:00.000+01:00

Dear Rioter,

I'm wondering, as you loot, pillage, inflict terror and pain, destroy all in your path and do your best to make a soul sad and wonder about human nature, do you even know the name of the man who was shot to begin with? Didn't think so...

Yours sincerely,

Share And Share Alike...

2011-07-14T08:49:00.000+01:00

Dear Reader,

Some videos are just too beautiful to not share...

Yours sincerely,

Television, The Drug Of A Nation...

2011-06-21T12:46:00.000+01:00

Dear Good Holy Christ On A Bike,

Last night, on a rare occasion I decided to turn on the telly, not because I am so morally superior that I no longer watch tv, but because I find the internet allows me to choose productively what I want to watch, instead of being sucked into an endless, unproductive, timeless vortex of, well, poop. Last night, I was in the mood for poop, wow does that type bad or what? You know, some vacuous, mind numbing, I do not wish to concentrate on one more thing, poop. Be careful what you wish for, indeed.

There it was, Embarrassing Fat Bodies, a title so insensitive that it was the perfect companion to a programme that hauled individuals up in front of the nation and highlighted every single thing that was wrong with them, physically, emotionally and mentally, in the name of entertainment. Throw some more chum in the water, the sharks be circling. And it was at that exact moment that I realised future generations will be able to look back and pinpoint the precise moment that man's intellect began it's steep, steady and speedy decline...

Yours sincerely,

Work It...

2011-06-18T18:25:00.001+01:00

Dear Citizens of Normalcy,

Does anybody else think it's a little weird, that sometimes in the blog world you stumble upon a person who posts 72 pictures of themself, in various poses, in a meadow? Sometimes, it's all a little Mariah Carey, just sayin'...

Yours sincerely,

A Breath Of Fresh Air...

2011-06-18T11:32:00.000+01:00

Dear New York State Senator Roy McDonald,

Every so now and again, I am reminded that not everyone in politics is bad. Not everyone in politics is afraid to speak the truth for fear of upsetting the people who bank roll them. Every so now and again I am reminded that the fact we live in a society where this is even considered to be an issue is ridiculous. That years from now, future generations will look back on ours, shamefaced, that we would try to police love. That we had the audacity to sit idly by, whilst our friends and relatives were abused, berated and denied basic human rights, simply because they love someone of the same gender. Every so now and again, a man like you, remembers why you got into politics in the first place. You wanted to make a difference, a real difference, to other people's lives, not just your own.

"You get to the point where you evolve in your life where everything isn't black and white, good and bad, and you try to do the right thing. You might not like that. You might be very cynical about that. Well, fuck it, I don't care what you think. I'm trying to do the right thing. I'm tired of Republican-Democrat politics. They can take the job and shove it. I come from a blue-collar background. I'm trying to do the right thing, and that's where I'm going with this."

Yes Senator, sometimes all the Ivy League Graduate School prepped speeches in the world, can't hold a candle to the truth and a well placed fuck it, and for that sir, I applaud you...

Yours sincerely,

For Hands That Do dishes...

2011-06-16T21:30:00.002+01:00

Dear Friend,

Don't worry about changing my glass, at this stage we have drank so much wine, you could pour it in my shoe, some friends transcend washing up liquid, just saying...

Yours sincerely,

Collaborations? Across the Nations? Put your hands up...

2011-06-13T13:11:00.000+01:00

Dear Letter Readers and Writers,

I have an idea. An idea that involves you. An idea that involves you picking up a pen and writing a letter. A letter to a loved one. One who means the world to you. One, who you presume knows how you feel about them, exactly. They may not, and wouldn't it be nice if they did? All the little reasons, all the big reasons, rolled into one and sealed with a kiss.

I went to a funeral last week. I sat there and listened to all the lovely things people were saying about our dear friend and I thought, I wish he could hear them. I wish people said these things whilst people are still alive. I wish we all let the people who really matter to us, know just how much they matter, while they are still here. Now is your chance. If you are interested in being a part of my little project, please write to me at tliwiw@gmail.com and I will fill you in on what I would like us to do as part of our internet collaboration. I won't make you a star, you'll do that all by yourself, so best get ready for your close up. Now, where exactly did you leave your pen..?

Yours sincerely,

Scrambled...

2011-06-07T15:29:00.000+01:00

Dear Paul Victor De Seze,

"While it is true that the mind is common to all human beings" wrote Paul Victor De Seze "the active employment thereof is not conducive to all. For women, in fact, this activity can be quite harmful. Because of their natural weakness, greater brain activity in women would exhaust all the other organs and thus disrupt their proper functioning. Above all however, it would be the generative organs which would be the most fatigued and endangered through the over exertion of the brain". Hmmm, thinking cracks your eggs?

Now, me being me, I wanted to check you out. I realise, I was playing a dangerous game of Russian Roulette with my fertility by doing this, as some of your words may have contained more than two whole syllables.... but pull the trigger and call me Natasha, I wanted to know more about you. Turns out, whilst you may have been a tad misogynistic, you did an awful lot of good AND you were born in St Emilion, the home of my favourite red wine. Good red wine and helping deaf kids? If this were a game of cards, then you just trumped my ovaries. Damn you. Anyway, I've started reading more about you and now you've introduced me to a few more names I don't recognise, and as I don't like being stupid + I do love to google = problem solved. Yeah, I solved that all by myself and I wore lipstick while I did it, stick that in your pipe Paul Victor De Seze....

Yours sincerely,

Huston, We Do Not Have A Problem...

2011-04-06T09:49:00.001+01:00

Dear Anjelica,

Oh Anjelica, let me count the ways I love thee. Maybe it's the fact your personal style blows any of today's young bland starlets so far out of the water they could be sitting on top of the Bellagio. Maybe it's because your finely tuned performances in so many films, remind me of a time when people strove to be good at something, as opposed to just being famous.

Maybe it's your torrid love affairs with inappropriate men that tell me, even when it looks like someone has everything, they do not, in fact, have everything. Maybe it's the fact you didn't buckle under the pressure of a famous family and produced a body of work in your own right that you can be proud of(we'll ignore The Adam's Family, nice save with Life Aquatic though),instead of spending the trust fund and talking about how you could have been a contender, you were probably too busy polishing your Oscar for that sort of chat.

Maybe it's because you chose to grow older with grace and not inject your face with tonnes of poison. Maybe it's because you occupy your time with creating new work, writing and directing, thereby proving women in the entertainment industry need not be put out to pasture once they blow out 40 candles. Maybe it's because you and Grace Coddington hung out all the time. Maybe, just maybe, it's because tall girls with strong features like to see other tall girls with strong features, dainty we ain't, different we are. Maybe it's all of the above combined, regardless, Anjelica, I salute you...

Yours sincerely,

Killing Me Softly...

2011-03-29T22:37:00.000+01:00

Dear Sara Lund's Jumper,

I feel like you broke up with me.

I watched you for twenty episodes, I saw you chase the bad guy, take on the suits, get kidnapped, fail, dust yourself off and get right back on the horse. I watched you keep her warm as she eyeballed potential suspect after potential suspect and now, now you are gone. I invested in 20, yes 20, hours of you and now you leave my life and I am bereft. No more sweet, cosy, jumper shall I covet thee as I spend far too much of my time off watching you on catch up tv.

Oh jumper, it breaks my heart to think of you stuffed in a wardrobe room somewhere in Denmark, still at least you'll be warm. If I keep you on my screen saver does that qualify as stalking and warrant an investigation? What's Danish for 999..?

Yours sincerely.

I Hate Mantras...

2011-03-29T21:57:00.001+01:00

Dear Self,

No one's opinion of you should ever have the power to alter the one you have of yourself, now, kindly remember that. Nobody move, nobody gets hurt...

Yours sincerely,

One Way Or Another...

2011-03-21T20:35:00.000Z

Dear Males,

Oh yes, it happened, the first casualty of the Spring season, I saw it, walking down the street, like a braying donkey in a field of stallions. Dear males, dear, sweet, sweet, males, there is never; read it again, never, an excuse to wear three quarter length trousers. This time of year sees them seep into the wardrobe of the sartorially challenged (please see footballers casual wear should a diagram be required). Still, at least it was paired with a tight fitting pale lemon t-shirt that gave him nipples not unlike a gobstopper…

I care not for the tribal tattoo caressing your shin, it offends my eyes and insults my very soul; Pamela Anderson has a tribal tattoo. The shin has not, nor will it ever be an erogenous zone, no woman ever threw her knickers in the air at the sight of a pair of three quarter length maharishi trousers. Hard to believe as it may be, an embroidered dragon snaking it’s way up your leg to rest it’s weary head on your left buttock, is the equivalent of hitting the female erection with a teaspoon. I cry foul, and when I say foul I mean why does the eye not pop out of the head so it may caressed with an eraser to remove the images that burn my retina so, a design fault indeed Monsieur Darwin. I am loathe to refer to them as trousers, trousers caress the ankle and frame a fabulous shoe, trousers tell me you mean business, trousers tell me you know your The Kooples from your K Mart, trousers tell me you will always remove your socks first so that I may be spared the sight of you in your drawers and socks. Drawers and socks, it ain’t no fish and chips in terms of lexicon. There’s a reason for this.

A three quarter length trouser always instills in me the fear of a formidable mother, for what grown man would pick these because he liked them? Are you there Norman, come in it’s me, Mrs. Bates, time to get dressed love, let me just take the hem up with my knife. I beg of you Dear Males, pick long or pick short, but stop with the in between, you can’t have it both ways and sometimes when you try, you just come off looking silly, like so many other things in life...

Yours sincerely,

Tick Tock...

2011-03-19T05:06:00.001Z

Dear Timing,

It's all about you...

Yours sincerely,

Share The Love...

2011-03-17T11:04:00.002Z

Dear Readers,

Well lookee, lookee here, the delightful *s* at Shine Little Light has given me an award. I would like to thank the academy...ahem...but mostly, in the spirit of this award I would like you to check out the three below.

The basic premise being, think of us, the little blogs, less then 300 followers, mine stands at a racy 69, (which my inner 14 year old boy finds endlessly amusing), being your local coffee shop, this way we support each other and go up against the big guys, the Starbucks of the blogging world if you like. You know, the blogs with 18,000 followers who talk about worming their cats, yeah, you know who you are...or maybe we're not going up against anyone? Maybe I just woke up feisty? Maybe it's just a nice way to let you know about some of my favourites? Not least being the delightful lady above who nominated me. The ones down the left sidebar are always worth a look too...

Seeds and Stitches Always informative, interesting and inspiring, me likee, me likee a lot.

Found,now home Never before has one blog been so responsible for making my tea loving, Irish heart, backflip.

Sighs and Whispers Oh where to start, suffice to say, where does she find these photos? Beautiful.

I hope you enjoy, I know I do...

Yours sincerely,

A Black Velvet Band...

2011-03-17T08:47:00.000Z

Dear St Patrick,

Today is your day, it is also my birthday, therefore, my day too. We have so much in common, in another life we could have dated, in a Thorn Birds you'd need to stop with the whole man of God kind of way. All I know is, sometimes a girl needs a little help casting out the snakes...

Yours sincerely,

Look Up, Look Up I Say...

2011-03-12T12:39:00.000Z

Dear Strangers,

I smiled at 17 of you today, 9 of you smiled back and looked surprised as you did so. I would have smiled at more of you, only it became apparent eye contact would be required in order for a smile to be exchanged. It was a simple experiment and my findings lead me to believe that people look down far too much...

Yours sincerely,

Nothing Stranger...

2011-03-11T10:24:00.000Z

Dear Strangers,

Today, I am conducting an experiment. Today, I am going to smile at you all day long and I am going to count you. I am also going to count how many of you who smile back, it will be an interesting new way to do subtraction...

Yours sincerely,

First Floor...

2011-03-11T00:06:00.000Z

Dear People In Elevators,

Stop looking at your phone and pretending to check a message that really isn't there. Look up, smile, flirt,engage with a real human as opposed to a virtual one, you just never know what might happen...

Yours sincerely,

Oh Karl...

2011-03-08T13:50:00.000Z

Dear Karl Lagerfeld,

I watched your documentary the other day. Can I just say I love you? A real, true, unquestionable, unstoppable, kind of love. Oh yes, Mr Lagerfeld, I do believe I am crushing hard. I always knew you were a genius, I had no idea you were so funny. And so I find myself falling in love with a gay man, again...

Yours sincerely,

You Know You Want To...

2011-03-07T12:49:00.002Z

Dear Temptation,

I am trying to stay put for a bit, just a bit, my feet are a little bit cross with me of late as I promised them some time at home and I am made this promise whilst packing a case internally. I saw my feet look at me like they knew what I was up to, but someone once said promise good, promise bad, so I closed the lid and shut the drawer, cursing my toes as I did so. I promised my fingers the same thing, a chance to engage with my brain, to top up my levels, to read, to write, to create, for all my travels, much as I love them, were starting to deplete me a little. So temptation, sit, stay, good dog. We are in the process of a restoration, we've already repaired the first layer, a few more weeks and we will go again for sure, for that is who I am, but in the mean time, let's remember how good it feels to be still...

Yours sincerely,

A Break From Our Normal Service...

2011-03-03T12:40:00.001Z

Dear Reader...

Once upon a time there was a waitress, she was of typical waitress stock, smiling, funny, if slightly indifferent, but polite enough to always ensure 10%. One day she woke as usual and prepared to go about her day making lists as she walked to work drinking her coffee. Unbeknownst to her, in the middle of the night her smile had jumped from her mouth and scampered across her pillow to rest in a place until it could be rightfully restored. You see, lately, her smile had been feeling well, I guess, a little devalued. In a world where, lets not mince words, most give to get, the smile had not been getting reciprocated. Maybe it was in the eyes, he had indeed tried to speak to the eyes about the matter, but they were, to say the least, disinterested. So the smile thought to himself, I’m off! This, I realise, is a dreadful tangent dear reader, but you will see an integral part of our story, for what is a waitress without a smile? No more than a woodcutter without an axe, or a fireman without a hose. You do not know her name, nor do you need to, but it is the smile that is your link for the duration of your meal and so we are back to our waitress. She was unaware of her loss as she slept; she was unaware as she woke, as she walked to work and as she worked. A couple of her friends asked if she was okay in tones of concern and she responded with a breezy “I’m good, thank you” yet they didn’t seem convinced. Her customers seemed a little cold and her tips a little down, still everyone has bad days she thought to herself as she bid, what she wrongly thought, was a cheery goodbye. The next day it was more of the same, except her friends seemed more concerned, her customers a little colder and her tips definitely smaller. Still she thought, tomorrow will be better, as she bid once more, what she wrongly thought, was a cheery goodbye.

Meanwhile, her smile was having the most extraordinary time, having met up with a nose and some fingers, which knew how to have a good time; he had decided to take an extended break. After all he had worked so hard all of his smiling life and lately it felt at times like he was being fish hooked on either side for very little in return, not even an acknowledgement. I mean truly, a smile makes no demands, it does not require fame or fortune, it simply requires a smile back and then like a virus needs a germ, it spreads like chickenpox. Meanwhile, things were going from bad to worse for our waitress, people no longer seemed concerned for her well being, after all, how many times can a person answer “good thank you” and clearly not mean it, before people stop asking? Our waitress was confused, what had happened for her friends to change so? What had she done? For dear reader, you will remember our waitress did not know she was not smiling, to her, everything was as it had always been, except perhaps the world seemed to have gone a little mad, well maybe not the world, just the people in it. Until one day, her boss asked to speak to her in a very serious tone indeed. He said her sparkle was gone, she looked so glum, she appeared to have lost her smile and a whole lot of other stuff she was sure was important but she had long since stopped listening, for was it really and truly possible for a person to loose their smile? She shrugged off her silliness but none the less checked lost property on the way out, just in case. Meanwhile, her smile and his new friends had decided to drive across America. Never before had the smile felt so free, smiling because he wanted to, not because he should or worse still had to, for he was tired of a brave face, tired of a stiff upper lip, his new friends merely made him smile because….

Our waitress on her walk home had started to panic; she couldn’t stop the fear rising in her stomach. She held her hands to her mouth and thought the happiest of her happy thoughts, no response, it was at this point she started to look under a few rocks and bushes and while it seemed she had indeed lost her own ability to smile, her effect on other peoples remained, if maybe not for the right reasons. So crazy as it seemed, it was decided, lost, misplaced, mislaid, irretrievable, never to be regained and for the first time, in a long time she started to cry. Oh dear reader, if only our waitress knew the fun her smile was having, eating ice cream while sitting on top of the Hollywood sign. She arrived home to be greeted by her flatmate, Greta, a woman who never stopped smiling, perhaps she stole it our waitress thought rather uncharitably. She started to pull their flat apart, looking everywhere and very quietly Greta joined in, she never asked what they were looking for, she just figured she would know it when she saw it, for that is sometimes what real friends do, they don’t ask, they just join in and hope that it helps.

Our beloved smile was on the road again, in search of adventure, he thought fondly of our waitress but the further he traveled the further he wanted to go, lately he had even begun thinking about space, I mean, the moon in particular, it just looked so lovely and that fella who lived in it, sure he was always smiling. Our waitress and Greta sat in the middle of the destroyed room and started to laugh, well Greta laughed, our waitress made a very peculiar noise through an even more peculiar shaped mouth, for whatever it was, it was not a smile. It was then she realised she was not unhappy, granted she might look a bit miserable but people made whole careers out of being miserable, like funeral directors and trumpet players for example. Our waitress felt strangely hopeful, she could be any number of things or she could spend the rest of her life lamenting the loss of her smile and walking the earth on some ridiculous quest, this seemed less than appealing. A decision had been made, granted it had been made for her, but none the less, it had been made. In the meantime, her smile had started to build his rocket. Our waitress began to scour the internet and newspapers everyday for her new career for it was surely in there somewhere, she had little success and was feeling a little despondent when there it was, like a gift from Santa Claus at Easter, unexpected, yet no less delightful, Newsreader required. She loved the news! She loved reading! How hard could it be? And so, terrified, she went to the auditions. One by one, the girls got knocked out of the competition and still she remained, after all getting the giggles in the middle of a very serious story indeed was hardly the stuff of Moira Stewart. They tried everything to make her smile, at one stage they even resorted to tickling, tickling, dear reader can you imagine? But still she did not smile, she did not smile as she sailed through round after round of the grueling auditions, she did not smile when the producer shook her hand and she did not smile when she signed her contract. She was polite, friendly, warm, but you could not make her smile and so my friends, a news reading legend was born.

As for her smile, he was last seen boarding his rocket somewhere south of the equator and on certain nights if you look closely at the moon and are very, very drunk indeed, you will surely see two of them smiling down at you. As for our waitress, well, she just goes to show you, with good lighting, hair and make up, who needs a smile anyway...?

Yours sincerely,

You Show Em'

2011-02-25T00:08:00.000Z

Dear Life,

Full of surprises, so very full of surprises...

Yours sincerely,

Wrap Me Up Me Hearties...

2011-02-05T23:51:00.003Z

Dear Lovely New Discovery,,

Is it possible to fall in love with a blanket? I think I just fell in love with a blanket...

Yours sincerely,

Made by these clever people...

One Born Every Minute...

2011-02-05T22:02:00.000Z

Dear Author,

I bet you get laid an awful lot...

Yours sincerely,

No, No, No...

2011-02-04T10:28:00.001Z

Dear Jennifer Aniston,

What in the name of merciful Jesus where you thinking?

You do not have to dress up in babydoll pyjamas, hold on to a teddy bear, give it your best Lolita pout to prove you still got it. Now, sartorially speaking, your look has never been my thing, but it most certainly has been yours. You rock the girl next door like few else and millions of women love you for it.

I always find it amusing when people take pity on you, I think to myself poor old Jen, counting her millions in one of her fabulous mansions, with a career she loves, loyal friends and dating a string of hotties, she's had it tough...

It's laughable really, how the press like to paint you as some downtrodden divorcee, that as a successful business woman, you are somehow incomplete, because you have yet to be rescued by the knight on the white horse, when anyone with an ounce of sense can see you rescued yourself.

So Jennifer, it is with great affection I say to you, button up your top, step away from the teddy bear, wipe off the lipstick Barbie may have rejected on the grounds of crimes against the colour pink and while your at it, take out the clip on fringe and repeat after me, white t-shirt, blue jeans and honeyed highlights...

Yours sincerely,

Seconds Away...

2011-02-03T21:32:00.003Z

Dear Blues,

I am bored of you now. You are proving tedious and difficult to shake, the moral of the story is never play with your hormones, they fight back and they fight dirty...

Yours sincerely,

I'm In Love, I'm In Love, I'm In Love...

2011-01-30T00:21:00.000Z

Dear New Trousers,

Such are your extreme beauty I could weep.

I love the height of your waist. I love the length of your leg. I love the billow of your fabric. I love the way you made my Swedish Hasbeens squeal with delight, when they saw they had a new playmate. I love the way you fill my heart with anticipation for spring and the way you make me talk like Katherine Hepburn.

Sweet, dear trousers, I love all these things about you, but most of all, I love how your little polka dots look like polo mints, it's all I can do to stop myself sucking on a leg, sigh...

Yours sincerely,

Gonna Get Along Without Ya Now...

2011-01-28T18:06:00.003Z

Dear Facebook,

Don't try to change my mind, we're done. We had a good run, but it's time to move on. You like gossip a little too much for my tastes and you don't care who hears it. You are neither a discreet or good friend and you aren't so much about sharing, as you are spreading. Spreading gossip, useless information, he said/she said and at certain times, playing with people's paranoia like it's a baseball, back and forth we go.

You think nothing of telling "friends" things I don't want to share, despite my stranglehold on my account settings, you seem to constantly change the rules about privacy and yet, you aren't so keen to share that information with me. You don't mind passing my information on to corporations, despite telling me that is not the case and yet all that appears in my right hand column are ads for travel. Ask anyone on my blog, I like to travel, they know, because I told them, I don't ever recall telling British Airways.

It was fun while it lasted, but when people start talking about my life, like it's up to them what they know and can access, it's time to take that sucker back. It's time to pick up a pen or the old Alexander Graham Bell and really be a friend, who remembers a birthday because I love my friend and not because 230 "mutual friends" prompted me to write a witty one liner on a wall, that people I don't even know, can look at. My friends, my actual, sweet, kind, loving, loyal, flesh and blood, non virtual but actual friends, deserve more than that.

So facebook, you can "share" all you want, but as of today, what's mine, is mine...

Yours sincerely,

My One True Love...

2011-01-19T11:20:00.000Z

Dear New York,

We are reunited again! I don't care if it is cold and miserable, as cities go, you are still the fuckin' business...

Yours sincerly,

Down But Not Out...

2011-01-16T10:05:00.047Z

Dear Reader,

Lately, there has been fighting, a firm stranglehold, as work has been beating inspiration into submission. I love my work, even if it has all consuming, what time zone are we in tendencies. Progress has been made in this past year and I am happy about that, truly. With one exception. There's always one, right?

Writing, has been shoved into a corner, as my mind has been filled with many pragmatic and practical ways, plans, advancing, and always scanning 100 metres ahead. I love the past, those gone before wore it, said it and lived it in ways that still amuse and inspire me all day, every day. I have also always, always, loved looking at the moment. The moment, is where I relish so many of the everyday things that trigger my imagination, glancing over them and looking ahead constantly has made the relationship between my fingers and my imagination, a little frosty. It looked like they were headed for divorce, an intervention was needed, they needed counselling. And so they they set themselves a task (notice the use of task instead of plan), one which would ensure more posting and less flagellation and then they marched around some of their favourite stomping grounds and took a course in inspiration...

Eat it or Wear it or Light it or Shoot it or Collect it or Whisper it...

Yours sincerely,

Ma Ma Se, Ma Ma Sa, Ma Ma Coo Sa...

2011-01-14T17:19:00.005Z

Dear Thriller,

You are on a constant never ending loop on my ipod at the moment. As albums go, you are about as close to perfection as one album could hope for.

What's not to love about an album who's title track about monsters and demons, be they metaphorical or real, still has the power to make guests at weddings around the world walk from side to side with zombie hands and give it a shoulder shuffle that might just make an arm fall from it's very socket?I still can't believe the werewolf that used to make me hide behind the sofa, is really nothing more than an overgrown cat in a leather jacket. Run for your lives.

I wish I could laugh like Vincent Price, I've been trying since I was seven, any day now, any day now...

Yours sincerely,

Bearded lady...

2011-01-14T12:20:00.004Z

Dear Body,

I took some progesterone today, my stomach started making funny noises. I sincerely hope I am growing neither a moustache nor a penis...

Yours sincerely,

Speechless...

2011-01-11T08:06:00.004Z

Dear Colin Firth, Helena Bonham Carter and Geoffrey Rush,

Let me just start by saying, I love you. You have utterly charmed me in your current incarnations, portraying a beautiful friendship in the most delightful of ways. I wanted so desperately to build a time machine and go back in time and be part of your gang, even though your gang, was a reincarnation of the actual gang, maybe my machine could make two stops...

I left the cinema feeling fulfilled and with a small amount of smile ache, finally, after what seems like an eternity of recycling, someone has made a film, which is neither a remake or an imitation, but an honest to goodness portrayal of friendship in the most extraordinary of circumstances. You made me feel such warmth towards the Royal Family. I was thinking, perhaps, I should get a corgi?

Everywhere I looked on screen, something was beautiful, or even better than beautiful, interesting. Inspired was the order of the day, by friendships, aesthetics and sheer bloody determination. I very much look forward to your arrival on dvd, in the meantime, I am practising my diction...

Yours sincerely,

Two Brains Good...

2010-12-09T08:27:00.003Z

Dear Brain,

Some people just make you feel calm, a different kind of quiet...

Yours sincerely,

Juuuuuump...

2010-12-08T00:57:00.004Z

Dear Australian Spiders,

I see no need for us to be enemies. I have been here three days and I must say I like your country a lot. I don't mean to be unfriendly but please don't come anywhere near me, don't look at me, walk past me, and I realise I'm beginning to sound like a Prince style diva here, (I said I like my coffee stirred anti clockwise!), come into my room, jump at me, bite me or most importantly kill me, please.

I am happy for us to not become acquainted at all as I don't wish to spend my days perched on a chair or dying on the toilet because of a bite on the bottom. On the plus side, some Peter Parker style powers could come in useful and who doesn't like a lycra onesie? In return for this, I promise not to scream, I am not really a screamer, but, when tested I could make your ears bleed. Do spiders even have ears? Perhaps I should read this letter aloud...In any event, please cast one of your multiple eyes over it...

Yours sincerely,

Pow...

2010-11-29T14:39:00.004Z

Dear Cold Snap,

The children in the school yard opposite my house are not afraid of you and so they wear their coats like capes as somebody, somewhere, has to be Batman when Robin is in trouble. I am cold just looking at them and jealous that once upon a time, saving the world was so much more important than staying warm...

Yours sincerely,

Shame, Shame, I Know Your Name...

2010-11-28T23:09:00.006Z

Dear James Bond,

A double bill today on a snowy afternoon, with not even jet lag as an excuse, (can Belgium to England really qualify? I think not) reconfirms my massive affection for you. With your Jurassic, sexist, incorrigible bastardo ways and questionable hair pieces, yes you. All incarnations of you, except Timothy Dalton, he was far too politically correct for my taste.

Now, pat me on the bottom and tell me to run along like a good girl with my shameful crush, women died so I could vote. Oh Emily, I am sorry...

Yours sincerely,

Scratch Yours...

2010-11-17T13:00:00.001Z

Dear Friends (no inverted commas),

Sweetest, kindest, funniest, smartest bunch a girl could ask for. Just sayin'...

Yours sincerely,

Scratch Mine...

2010-11-15T13:47:00.004Z

Dear "Friends",

Ask me for what you want but let's not dress it up as concern. Let's just come straight out with it, can I get you the thing you want? It's the most obvious way to get me to say yes.

Please don't ask me a bundle of other questions you have no desire to know the answer to, please don't fake concern, please don't pretend that after a few years of no contact you just wanted to see how I am, when, what you really wanted was a perk of my job. It's beyond insulting. I'm pretty smart, if you'd kept in touch you'd know that.

Yours sincerely,

Piggy Bank...

2010-11-08T04:47:00.006Z

Dear Epiphany,

Now that sleep and I appear to not be on speaking terms I have to say am enjoying your company. The wee small hours have become a time for over thinking and amusement. Tonight's findings are so simple I can almost hear you laughing.

Bad boys are predictable, good boys are not.

Bad boys can be relied upon to not call when they say they will, not show up, be rude, take their moods out on you, play games with you and make you cry, therefore, predictable, furthermore, boring.

Good boys will make it their business call you, do what they say they will, be polite, explain their moods, play games with you if you're really lucky...and spend their time coming up with ways to surprise you, therefore, never a dull moment, furthermore, desirable.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go pick up the penny I just dropped...

Yours sincerely,

Lagging...

2010-11-07T07:36:00.005Z

Dear Jet Lag,

Please stop devouring me. I have spent the last month working in America, fun times all round, but, in my absence, I fear you, my bed and my pillow have formed an unholy trinity. A sneaky alliance. What wicked whispers have you placed in the ear of my beloved pillow? What have you said to my bed for it to shun my embrace? Normally, you and I never hang out Jet Lag, until this point, you have always been relatively kind to me and so I fear I have upset you. Perhaps my fingers whipped you into a frenzy in order to return themselves to my oh so neglected keyboard.

I think the best thing about you is the wonderful conversations I have had with myself for four hours at a time in the middle of the night. I now know how to set the world to rights, can list all my flaws alphabetically, build a better mousetrap and at some point I may even start to unpack, although there hardly seems a point, we leave again in two more sleeps. Ah sleep, I remember you, unlike some of my previous lovers, you do your best work at night...

Yours sincerely,

Whistle...

2010-10-13T04:41:00.001+01:00

Dear Assorted Famous People,

You are very rich, rich enough to afford a driver or at the very least a Taxi, please stop getting into your cars drunk. It's getting very boring...

Yours sincerely,

Is It A Cape...

2010-09-20T09:05:00.005+01:00

Dear Assorted Super Heroes And Villains,

Where do you get your outfits from? Is there a special shop? Or are your most powerful gifts super creativity, darning and embroidery a bomb wouldn't shift? I was just wondering...

Yours sincerely,

Omar...

2010-09-16T17:26:00.005+01:00

Dear Stylish Girl On The Street,

I love it. I love that on a day when the sun shone, the air was warm and the sky was blue, you wore your hat regardless. I love that your bonnet, whilst obviously old, was new to you and such was your love for it, nothing as simple as a warm sunny day would stop you giving it your best Lara a la Dr. Zhivago.

I salute you, as sometimes, not even seasons, can come between a girl and her pom poms...

Yours sincerely,

Billie Jean...

2010-09-16T17:23:00.001+01:00

Dear Train,

I had to ride backwards today. I hate riding backwards, it feels like the world's longest moonwalk...

Yours sincerely,

Attention...

2010-08-27T14:17:00.005+01:00

Dear Fool,

Here's the thing. You know women talk, we like to talk a lot. What you might not know, is that this forms friendships, beyond what you can imagine. We get close, very close, we look out for each other and contrary to what the media might try to have us all believe, as they pit the fairer sex against each other on a daily basis, we are loyal to each other, to the very bones. Don't even call it a sisterhood, it's offensive, it's friendship, in all it's laughter, hard times, great times, snots and tears, mischievous glory.

So, when you go behind our backs and try to undermine the very heart of it, know that it went from your lips, to her ear, to her mouth, to her telephone, to my ear. We are not some fucking interchangeable pieces of a jigsaw, in your mission to get laid. We do not think dumping all over your best friend, who has supported and loved you through your own battles, to get what you want is attractive. In fact package the outside however you like, your core is ugly.

You say you want to change, you say a lot of things, I just wish you meant one of them...

Yours sincerely,

Paging Gene Kelly...

2010-08-25T22:27:00.005+01:00

Dear Constant, Incessant, Relentless, Rain,

I've got Point Break and Blue Hawaii on rotation. I've taken the legs off the ironing board, filled the bath and installed a small propeller by the taps, not to mention the massive halogen bulb I've placed above the sink. I've turned the heating up to 90 and have stolen my housemates board shorts, which, I am currently dismantling on my sewing machine, as mid calf is sooo not a good length, at least on shorts, on Joan? Well on Joan, it is of course, perfection.

I have taught myself the Hoola, eaten ice cream whilst holding an umbrella, whispered in my own ear, (no small achievement) this is just a wee shower in the face of clouds that are milliseconds from dropping locusts and toads, to complete the apocalypse. I have returned a mere two weeks and I can feel my spirit withering, like the over watered plants in the back garden. This feels like the worlds longest game of hide and seek between the Sun and I. I have to be honest Rain, I'm beginning to suspect foul play on your part, no need to call Jessica Fletcher just yet, at least not before I speak to Colonel Mustard. Did I mention I have Point Break and Blue Hawaii on rotation? Only Swayze and Elvis combined, can save me now...

Yours sincerely,

Tea For Two...

2010-08-20T10:36:00.003+01:00

Dear Blog,

I'd used the word neglected, but I don't want to downplay the situation. This magical Summer has been one of my best, two months traveling and working my way around the North American continent, left my fingers itching for nothing but a cold beer at the end of the day. The result? No words have come from these fingers in a long time and they are taking tentative steps in an effort to make it up to my keyboard. Sometimes, it's not enough to write about life, sometimes, you have to go live it, in order to build up a stash to draw on.

My fingers have been humming Olivia Newton John's "Physical", in an attempt to get themselves moving again. My hands like to think they sound not unlike Fred And Ginger, tapping away on the keys, but my fingers wanna get physical, they aren't quite as sophisticated, and so another battle begins.

Now, where did I leave my legwarmers? I feel a work out coming on...

Yours sincerely,

I'm Passed Out In Your Garden...

2010-07-28T01:37:00.003+01:00

Dear Kings of Leon,

You should thank the pigeons really. You should praise them for coming to the rescue. I had the misfortune of seeing you a couple of days later and I wish the pigeons had been the homing type. I wish they'd swept in and made things a little more interesting. Your sex is on fire? I beg to differ little ladies.

When did the dirty, skinny, sexy boys, singing about losing their erections (I long for the days of "soft", lyrically speaking...), turn into Bryan Adams? Perhaps the pigeon poo weakened you, for it seems you no longer have the strength to open a bottle of water, thank the lord a technician was on hand to help out. You are two steps away from a full on Mariah Carey.

I don't even like pigeons, but these days, I prefer them to Kings...

Yours sincerely,

Dangle All Day, Dangle All Night...

2010-07-01T05:27:00.003+01:00

Dear Carrot,

I am nobody's donkey...

Yours sincerely,

Mountains Out Of Molehills...

2010-06-26T05:32:00.004+01:00

Dear Alps,

I cheated on you today. I gave my heart to the Rockies. Two weeks on the North American continent and I gave my love to another, fickle aren't I? I did feel bad for a minute, but then the water looked so clear and a bear didn't eat me and so I fell...

Yours sincerely,

Three Sides To Every Story...

2010-06-23T16:17:00.005+01:00

Dear You,

Let's be very clear, I am not the one who got away, I'm the one you pushed away. Just sayin'...

Yours sincerely,

Blink, Blink, Blink...

2010-06-08T16:58:00.002+01:00

Dear Digital Picture Frames,

I think you're weird. That is all...

Yours sincerely,

Zut Alors...

2010-05-17T18:20:00.004+01:00

Dear Parisian Flea Market,

Sometimes, I have the kind of day off that makes it almost impossible to return to work. I am glad you are closed tomorrow, for if you were open? I would find myself awol and shortly thereafter, unemployed. You are not like other flea markets, largely because I could happily/easily spend my rent in an afternoon and only the French could ever be so casual as to allow 80's Chanel to lie on the floor, casually draped across some vintage YSL like a pair of lovers on a spring afternoon. I wanted to join them, I wouldn't normally be so brazen, but in this instance, a threesome felt right.

I will go to work in the morning, but know this, I will return, with more time to spend perusing your wares, oh and some hangers, for the love of Coco...

Yours sincerely,

S.O.S...

2010-04-29T09:40:00.007+01:00

Dear Wardrobe,

Drastic times, call for drastic measures. I've assessed the situation, and yes, it would appear we have nothing to wear. Or rather, nothing I want to wear, such are the nature of seasons and the endless cycles of winter/early spring wear. The last 6 months of wearing variations on a theme mean that now, my sweet wardrobe, you and I are barely on speaking terms. There is nothing for it, to London we must go. Try to be brave, little one. We will cull upon our return, by culling; I mean picking everything up off the bedroom floor I have just spent the last half an hour having a tantrum over. I even declared some of my favourite pieces useless and threatened them with wire coat hangers, dreadful, shameful, behaviour, I know. I can hear Joan Crawford in the background somewhere. She says I'm making her nervous, she's telling me I'm making her miss Bette.

Hopefully the God's of wanting stuff other people no longer want, (yes they exist, on a beautiful mountain next door to Olympus if you must know, they do a lovely line in second hand toga's and custom headbands) will smile favourably upon us and we can go back to being friends. In the meantime, I am bringing the bare minimum with me on my mini break in the hope that necessity, truly is the mother of invention...

Yours sincerely,

It's Raining, It's Pouring...

2010-04-26T22:25:00.003+01:00

Dear Friend,

Thank you for taking my crumpled up picture of a matchstick girl, holding what looked like an anorexic mushroom, and turning it into something pretty...

Yours sincerely,

A Is For Apple...

2010-04-24T09:03:00.006+01:00

Dear Pen,

I miss you lately. I seem to hang out with my keyboard more and more and my right hand has begun to wonder what it felt like to hold you. I am going to make a concerted effort with you from now on. I mean, I jot things down in notebooks all the time, but I honestly can't remember the last time I wrote a letter. And I mean wrote. I love electronic communication, don't get me wrong, but the thrill of my inbox doesn't even begin to come close to the thrill of an envelope on my doormat. I wonder if other people miss it too? My scrawl is not nearly what it used to be and I'm contemplating an inkwell and a wig just to get back into character.

I remember the days when I used to receive mail, (just call me nana), that wasn't from ebay or my bank. The utter delight that goes with boiling the kettle whilst reading a letter quickly, only to sit down with a cup of tea and the same letter and savour it moments later, one really doesn't need a biscuit with a cuppa, all one really needs is some lovely correspondence, there simply is no sweeter treat.

So Dear Pen, we leave on our travels again in a little over a week, we're gone for a month. A girl and her pen can write a lot of postcards in a month. We'll be like Thelma And Louise, without the killing, and stealing of vehicles, obviously. Well, maybe we'll kill a little grammar. I do believe it might be time for a pen pal...

Yours sincerely,

Bisous...

2010-04-21T17:16:00.003+01:00

Dear Man I Passed On The Bridge This Morning,

With your bright blue eyes and smattering of freckles, I wonder has there ever been a single day in your whole life, when a random person walking past you, didn't want to kiss you...?

Yours sincerely,

Goodbye Uncle...

2010-04-14T19:21:00.006+01:00

Dear Uncle,

I hadn't spoken to you in a long time, life sometimes gets us so busy we forget about what's really important, shameful I know. I got the call today to say that you had died. It makes me sad; I think of all my Father's siblings, you and I were the most alike. Everyone called you odd, with your dark sense of humor and your interest in the arts, apparently when everyone else was out tending cattle; you were known to read books.... I remember the summer after your Father, my Grandad, had passed away. We spent a lot of time hanging out together. My Mother had died two years previously and I think you were one of two people who actually talked to me about that and didn't think because I was little; I didn't have feelings that would need dealing with. You spoke to me like I was a grown up, you made fun of me and you made me laugh and I thought, after years of hearing you were odd from various family members, that you weren't odd, you were rather brilliant. The kind of man who made a 13-year-old cry with laughter with his sarcasm and wit. People are loath to use sarcasm on children, you didn't have a problem with it and I loved you for it.

I asked about the funeral and was informed by my family that there wouldn't be one, you had donated your body to medical science, even in death you're pretty punk rock and your last wish is one that made me smile. I will miss you...

Yours sincerely,

Come Out, Come Out, Wherever You Are...

2010-04-14T10:44:00.004+01:00

Dear Sun,

I am not speaking to you, I mean it this time. You can play hide and seek all you want, I no longer wish to look for you on these shores and look forward to my adventures taking me abroad in two weeks. I always seem to win when we play abroad. Yes, yes, I know, it's the taking part that counts, largely because, if you take part , it greatly increases one's chances of winning.

I have a day off today, the last three days have been spent working beside the seaside, the English seaside no less, and that is when you chose to shine, as I worked indoors. You can call me selfish all you want, I am happy for the people who got a little of your love, but I can be outside today and you appear to have called in sick, nestled under a blanket of grey, under the weather indeed, ahem.

Since I am left with no other option, I have cranked the heat up and hung a large torch from my bedroom ceiling in some futile attempt to make you jealous and lure you back. I may even get my housemate to dress up as a cabana boy, like a bad teen movie that would make John Waters roll in his grave. I hope we see eye to eye in the future, not literally, obviously, for the sake of my retina, but if you could find it in your heart to pop out for half an hour, I promise to buy you an ice cream...

Yours sincerely,

Excuse Me...

2010-04-14T10:41:00.002+01:00

Dear People Who Spit On The Street,

I am not a violent girl, really ask anyone, but I would like to punch you in the face until your mouth stops working. Just sayin'...

Yours sincerely,

They Dined On Mince...

2010-04-11T09:28:00.004+01:00

Dear Owl And Pussycat,

I've been thinking about you and your story a lot lately. People think it's just a case of a couple of crazy kids going sailing, I think your tale is probably sadder than any of us really know. We can dress up the pea green boat all we want, but the fact of the matter is, you had to sail away, for a year and a day, until you could find somewhere to be married.

I think of you as the Romeo and Juliet of the animal kingdom, albeit with a happier ending. Unable to be together on home turf, you had to flee with nothing more than a jar of honey and a five pound note. It's no coincidence the animals who helped you along the way, are some of the most put upon. The pig for example, so often his name is taken in vain, lazy, fat and stupid, are some of the more charming adjectives. In reality? He is so very clever and industrious, building a jewelry empire to rival Cartier, and it all started with a ring in his nose. The turkey? Surely the creature with the rawest of the raw deals, when all around him are opening gifts and celebrating life, he is contemplating a future stuffed with sage and onion, but he still found the time to get himself ordained in a very liberal order. No licence needed in his church, all you really need is love. Both suffered cruelty at the hands of others. Both found it in their hearts to help out young sweethearts. Although the pig, in fairness, did it for a shilling, but I digress.

I hope one day you are able to return home and show your families the true meaning of love, that it knows no bounds and those who want to be together will find a way, for surely there is no better way, than dancing by the light of the moon...

Yours sincerely,

Follow, Follow, Follow...

2010-04-03T11:11:00.004+01:00

Dear Road,

I'm not sure there is anything I love more than the thought of you in front of me. Every thing worth knowing is a product of those you've met along the way, and those you have yet to meet. I sometimes think if I had a dog called Toto you couldn't be any brighter, of course I can't have a dog, for if I did it would surely be dead by now, if only those pesky paws could hold a tin opener. When I say opposable, you say thumbs.

I leave again today, only a short hop, but my restless feet put their shoes on before they had removed themselves from the duvet this morning. Two lovely weeks at home and my batteries are charged and ready. My suitcase is waiting by the door, chanting are we there yet? We are never there, that's kind of the point...

Yours sincerely,

Brighter And Shinier...

2010-03-27T18:54:00.003Z

Dear Darkness,

Tonight you are banished, it's time to spring forward. Sky is bluer, clouds are fluffier, sun is brighter, there might even be a bluebird on my shoulder. Everything is possible after tonight. The promise of exciting things to do, bears leave their caves and humans leave their houses. None of your creeping behaviour, stamping on fun at 4.30pm, it's time, Dear Darkness, to go to sleep, the rest of the world is waking up. Sunrise arrives like a yawn, I don't care about the sleep I've lost, the pay off sweetens the deal. Sunny days, swinging in hammocks, make naps an altogether more attractive promise.

Please don't feel unloved or unwanted, when the time is right you'll wake up and it will be red wine and log fires all round, until then, take your place at the back of the line, find yourself a nice pillow and close your lids. Swallowed whole by your own sweet self. Darkness, your work is done for now, night, night...

Yours sincerely,

The Hardest Word...

2010-03-26T13:37:00.003Z

Dear Forgiveness,

You've been on my mind lately. I'm wondering if it's ever really possible to move on from something if I don't utilise you.

Now I have never really been one to hold a grudge, and such is my attention span that all it takes is a a new distraction to make me forget about an old one, but, is that really forgiveness or just changing up the merchandise? Is it best to just let go and deny a person, or, to accept an apology with a nod and a smile knowing it will never be the same, but that at least now you know the rules, you've decided their game isn't one you want to play anyway? Sometimes you have to accept an apology to help yourself. Now, where did I leave my white flag...

Yours sincerely,

Perhaps Not...

2010-03-24T13:19:00.004Z

Dear Snooty Yoga Teacher,

I'm sorry we were 15 minutes "late". You did in fact tell us the class started at 6.15, so when we got there at 6.00, in my mind, we were early. I probably am juvenile, but then, I don't know too many people who could walk into a room with 15 groins facing them and not find that amusing. When you said the class was suitable for beginners, I didn't realise beginners meant advanced in your world and since I appear to not be fluent in Yoga tongue, I ended up playing a game of twister with myself. I found this funny. The only thing funnier than laughing when you are not supposed to, is laughing in church when you are not supposed to. Sorry Sister Katherine, but all these years later that still remains with me, and is probably why it's for the best I haven't set foot in a church since I was 18, funerals/weddings/christenings excluded. I'm hoping that doesn't affect my statutory rights.

Than you for informing me you were separating me and my friend so we would benefit more from your class, the only way I could have really benefitted from your class, was if I hadn't gone. The giggling was, in fact, the most relaxing part. The attitude you gave me? I could have done without, I found it less than relaxing.

I won't be returning to your class, but perhaps you should in fact attend one of your own classes or at the very least try a bigger pair of lycra pants, the current ones appear to be right in a twist, along with your stress levels. Remember, it's all in the breathing...

Yours sincerely,

In Through The Nose...

2010-03-19T13:24:00.003Z

Dear Lungs,

We are off to the countryside. Oxygen and looking for things other people do not want is the order of the day. We get to breath in fume free air and hopefully the delicious smell that goes hand in hand with little shops, selling items of great beauty with greater history, in hidden streets somewhere in a secret village. Afterwards we get to walk on the beach, be prepared for the screams you will have to release when toes spots the water. It's too early for some, but a dab of icy ocean never hurt anyone really. We've been to 19 cities in the last four weeks, but always on someone else's schedule, so two days in the countryside on our own time, should allow for you to breath easy.

I can feel Shoulders starting to loosen already, and Thoughts? Well he started to wind down the moment the booking was confirmed. Eyes are excited at the prospect of having the time to read a whole newspaper and dabble with a book, but mostly Eyes are delirious about the thought of becoming heavy and waking up to a breakfast that makes him wide again. Mouth is ready to water and savour, not wolf like he usually does, in his endless battle with time. Time is what we have this weekend Lungs, it's on our side, so let's make the most of it and exhale...

Yours sincerely,

Merci...

2010-03-17T17:43:00.005Z

Dear Self,

Happy Birthday! The best, best, best thing about birthdays? When you strip away all the gifts, cards, phone calls, cocktails and general spoiling, you find yourself left with an extraordinary bunch of friends who took the time to make you feel very loved indeed...

Yours sincerely,

Say Cheese...

2010-03-14T21:36:00.002Z

Dear Polaroid Film,

I have been to 19 cities in four weeks. I have looked everywhere. I have looked where I am supposed to and where I am not supposed to. I left no stone uncovered, no stairs unclimbed, no river uncrossed and still, still you elude me. I miss you more than my last boyfriend...

Yours sincerely,

Row, Row, Row Your Boat...

2010-03-14T18:37:00.005Z

Dear Vikings,

You are very tall. I am tall, but not as tall as you. What is all this talk of rape and pillage? History needs to catch up on itself, ever since we arrived in Scandinavia, doors have been opened, items have been carried, kindness has been dispensed and chivalry has made itself be known. I was worried about chivalry for a while, he appeared to be very poorly or maybe he just stopped being expected. I'm so glad to know he's merely been playing hide and seek, here in the North.

I haven't seen any longboats but there appears to be enough bicycles for everyone. I love bicycles, anything that makes people feel young again and willing to play, is always worth investing in. They also make me think of Summertime, good friends, picnics, outdoor swims, not forgetting ice cream, mercy, don't ever forget the ice cream. I am currently jealous of anyone who holds a North American passport, we have to wait one more week for our extra daylight, whilst our transatlantic friends get to yap on about the stretch in the evening and perhaps remove the first of many layers. Still, the sun that has come out in the Nordic playground shall keep me going until I get to time travel next weekend.

I looked up the word Viking, apparently in old Norse it means to go on an expedition, it struck a chord, now if only I could find my longboat...

Yours sincerely,

Sing When You're Winning...

2010-03-10T13:11:00.009Z

Dear Songs,

Sometimes I feel bad for you. You were only ever written with the purest of intentions, how tv shows hijacked you in the name of wrecking someone's dream is beyond me. Once upon a time people sang because it made them happy, because they had a story that needed telling, now a lot of people sing because it makes them famous, the hands of a marketing machine placing a firm stranglehold on any individuality, one size fits all, do not pass go, do not collect 200 pounds. I hate that an old man with questionable taste in trousers gets to tell a 17 year old that they can't sing, nor should they. Stomping on a dream before it's even begun to flourish. Would it be so hard to tell the same person to go away and practice, persevere, work hard and never give up? I guess you could say that, but then the lions wouldn't have their christians.

Back in the day, people sang about love with no fear, hell, Etta james would rather have gone blind, blind I tell you, than see her man walk away. Now we sing about how no one hurts us and we don't need anybody at all. How wrong we got it and how sad it must make you feel, dear songs.

All is not lost for you sweet songs, those of us who truly love you will always seek out an original, not a modern made for tv idol, but a real one, made of vinyl, lying dusty at the bottom of the box in the shop at the end of the arcade, you know the one. People will cram themselves into vans so tiny, even though their guitarist's foot might be up their arse and they find themselves wearing a cymbal for a bonnet, just to tell their tales. These are our real idols, and songs? They might just be the ones to save you...

Yours sincerely,

It's All In The Wrapping...

2010-03-03T22:20:00.003Z

Dear Coat,

We appear to have found each other just in time for spring. How you made it through 50 years of living without a single soul every strutting down the street with you upon their shoulders is beyond me. One woman’s travesty is truly another woman’s golden ticket. It’s funny I found you in Amsterdam, everyone else was off doing the things people do in Amsterdam, but me and my trusty ipod embarked upon a treasure hunt, looking for clues and cardigans and there you appeared. I have laid you down upon the bed, I may have to sleep on the floor. It seems a shame to put you on something as crude as a hanger. You are virgin wool after all and must be handled with care.

We have a week or so before we get to go home, I felt the right thing to do was buy you a travelling companion, so that sweet little knitted cape should stop you missing home too much. You were after all, side by side in the shop. It seemed a shame to separate you. Wrenching you apart felt like putting one of you in foster care, rest assured my friend, you have found a home for life…

Yours sincerely,

Spring Into Action...

2010-02-04T13:12:00.004Z

Dear Spring,

I saw daffodils the other day, the first of the year, which obviously meant I started to get excited. About 20 minutes after I had seen aforementioned blooms, it started to rain and it hasn't stopped since. What kind of trickery is this Dear Spring? You and I have always been playmates and I thought you had come early.

I am so bored of dressing like an onion, my blue pallor and and the daily shade of grey that has dominated this weeks clouds. I am normally a fan of all things grey and all things cloud like, but combined? Not so much. Oh for a cheeky flash of azure or a beam of sunlight to break through, it's all I ask. I feel like you are my overdue season and perhaps I could induce you? Raspberry tea? Prunes? A slip dress and maybe some sandals, even though I may have to rock 'em with socks? I need a mid wife and I need one stat!

I hope you find your way soon, I know it's early, but have a word with Mother Nature, get her to punch your card, God knows in a recession we could all do with a little overtime...

Yours sincerely,

Dexterity...

2010-01-22T11:11:00.004Z

Dear Fingers,

It's no use whining, perhaps you should have kept up the yoga. The fact of the matter is, you're gonna have to stay crossed for at least another 24 hours. I know you can do it, breath in through the thumb and out through the index. For what it's worth, I know how hard it is to stay crossed and type, but sometimes you just have to suck it up soldier...

Yours sincerely,

Lundi, Lundi, Lundi, Lundi...

2010-01-18T21:29:00.003Z

Dear Monday,

You get a bad rap, I for one, am a fan. Sunday is my favourite, but you come a close second. There's something about your morning that makes everything seem so achievable. You are the let's get down to business day, the elbow in the ribcage of the week, gently nudging and reminding us all that once every seven days, a fresh start is possible. It's not that fresh starts aren't possible at any other second, it's just something about you makes it seem so likely.

Why just today we achieved so much, because let's face it, we can't possibly be thinking about any of this stuff come Friday. You know what he's like, he won't stand for it, with his naughty twinkle in his eye, headbutting his way through to Saturday. Ahh recuperation, thy name is Saturday.

Thursday so desperately wants to be Friday, he's kinda painful to be around. Tuesday? Well he can be as naughty as Friday, just to prove he can be and so he rarely leaves me with any energy for Wednesday who so desperately needs it, he's a typical middle child, nice enough but in need of some attention lest he should be forgotten.

And so sweet Monday, you have my allegiance, I could never befriend a Boomtown Rat, for Monday, I like you, I like you a lot...

Yours sincerely,

Room On The Broom...

2010-01-18T13:08:00.004Z

Dear Spot,

Well you picked your target didn't you? I can see it now, whirling through my body like a hormonal rocket. Yes, yes, you cry, I think I'll make her a witch and so there you are, with no advance warning, right on my chin. The witch analogy is no exaggeration on my part, for just this very morning I was offered a cut price cauldron in exchange for a go on my broom. Alas I am lacking in magic potions, for if I had one, t'would not be long before I made you disappear...

Yours sincerely,

Rapunzel Ain't Nothin' But A Show Off...

2010-01-11T22:16:00.007Z

Dear Hair,

Hurry up and grow. I know you're growing as fast as you can, but I am eyeballing the baby bio and thinking if it works for tomatoes impatient. I am looking at her Royal Hairiness herself, Girls World, through squinted peepers, you know the kind they use in westerns before someone has to draw. Glossy as the day is long, no follicle vexation in her future, just an ever growing mane sprouting from the crown of her head. No matter how many times my niece takes a scissors to it, out pops another foot in seconds.

At the moment you are neither short nor long and I feel like I am channeling my geography teacher from 91. We're not even talking eighties, but the look of a woman from a decade so dull no one can name a single good song or item of apparel they would want to repeat. Oh nineties, you are the equivalent of boiled cauliflower in the arsenal of Father Time and I am the poster child for the ghost of geography teachers past.

I cut my fringe today in an attempt to make the rest of you look longer, we just about diverted tragedy, then, a slip of the sneaky scissors resulted in an homage to Mo, not Tucker, I'm talking Stooges, as in three of them, pass the horn I need to honk...

Yours sincerely,

One, Two, Buckle My Shoe...

2010-01-11T19:45:00.006Z

Dear New Boots,

My feet are very cross, very cross indeed. They have waited patiently and now they are tapping toes. I tried to explain, it's not my fault, this inclement weather we're having has put a stop to you, lovely boots, leaving their box. I felt like a snitch when I spoke to my feet, I felt like I had turned my back on my true love, snow, or at least one of my true loves, damn I'm fickle...

I tried to appease my feet by taking a turn around the living room, I even put on lipstick to mark the occasion but I don't know how much longer I can pacify them with parlour tricks. We may have to bite the bullet and go outdoors, we can dance around the ice as if we are in the ballet, on the plus side, people always get out of the way for crazy folk.

I'm just trying to give you a heads up, there may be scuffing in your future, I think you may look even better with a few flaws, most things do. Still, if we fall over, we fall over together and we fall over in style...

Yours sincerely,

Sit Up Straight...

2010-01-10T09:54:00.001Z

Dear Backbone,

Where are you? I fear you may have slid out of my arse and may be hiding under the bed, ready or not, keep your place or you'll be caught...

Yours sincerely,

Pump It...

2010-01-09T22:01:00.007Z

Dear Heart,

I don't know how to reassure you. The disappointments, well they've come thick and fast of late, and my words may fall on deaf ears, but I promise, it will all be okay. You are big and open and lovely, you show understanding and kindness in the face of those who don't deserve it, you have hope when all seems lost, a nose for mischief and fun. As hearts go you have so much ahead of you that is good, that the current level of vile behaviour will soon be forgotten and you will bounce back like the rubber ball you are, back in the game and the crowd go wild...

Take heart, even though you are one, in the fact that worse has happened and you found your way back. This is merely a blip, an intermission, a disruption of service, the opposition only ever really wins if you let them.

So, dust your self off, put on your lippy, ask my lungs to pump faster, do whatever it takes, it's okay to get knocked down but doesn't it feel better to stand up...?

Yours sincerely,

Footsteps On The Dance Floor...

2010-01-09T21:53:00.002Z

Dear Tears,

Stay back, my eyelids are under instruction to blink you back into oblivion. You've had more than your fair share of my cheeks lately. You are in fact, a waste of perfectly good mascara and eye liner, get back in your box and stay there. You are no longer welcome...

Yours sincerely,

One Potato, Two Potato, Three Potato, Four...

2010-01-04T01:08:00.003Z

Dear Stomach,

We get our allergy test on Thursday, so the excessive amounts that I am plying you with at the moment are only a temporary measure. It's a little bit like being a camel I guess, I'm aiming for two humps, stockpiling. You know she'll be one of those earnest types who eliminates all the good stuff. I'm fairly certain she'll try to convince us we're allergic to fun, but we know better. We will do as were told just to wipe the smug smile of Will Power's face, you know he thinks we won't be able to summon him, we'll see about that.

In the meantime, I've had a word with all my trousers and they appreciate you may put a post Christmas pre test strain on their bands for the next couple of days. I'm prepping myself to say goodbye, I'm fairly certain wheat is gonna take the hit, God love her if she tells us it's potatoes...

Yours sincerely,

I Hate To Say Goodbye, But I Love To Watch You Walk Away...

2009-12-31T18:41:00.003Z

Dear 2009,

Just a wee note to say goodbye. I enjoyed every last minute with you, you were the year I got my nerve back, my confidence donned a bonnet and started to dance, on the inside mostly, but dancing none the less. I had many adventures, saw so many new places and took chances, not all of it worked out how I would have liked, but what do you know, I'm still standing.

I hate to replace you, but 2010 is just around the corner, tempting me and trying to steal me away like a new best friend in the playground. But before we part, it's important to me that you know you are special, of all the years in recent memory, you are my favourite. You got me writing, travelling and taking chances again and for that, you will be forever treasured.

Mostly, you really taught me to not look back, to always look forward and so, I say adieu...

Yours sincerely,

Frosted Flakes...

2009-12-21T12:11:00.003Z

Dear Snow,

Like all the best heroes you've arrived just in time to save the day. Now, if you can hang on for a few more days think how easy that will make it for Santa's sleigh, thereby ensuring your place at the head of the nice list. I'm just sayin'...

Yours sincerely,

Once A Skunk...

2009-12-14T01:43:00.002Z

Dear Pépe Le Pew,

In any other world you'd have been given a restraining order. You chased her mercilessly, left her gifts she didn't want, drove her to the edge of cliffs in a desperate attempt to flee your unwanted affections. What would you have done if you had ever caught her? I appreciate English is not your first language, but no is no, even in French...

Yours sincerely,

Dancin' Like No One Is Watchin'...

2009-12-12T21:35:00.004Z

Dear Vera-Ellen,

In my head I can dance like you. I would like to dance like you, but instead I will imagine I do and so the hours will pass until Fred can come a callin'...

Sometimes I think my waist is as small as yours as I swirl as elegantly in my head, as you do about a room. Those of us who are clumsy, need a role model, I think I may have found mine.

Not for you, the vulgar dress or showy manner of a Pussycat doll. The leg can go as high, but the level of class sets the bar so much higher. Back when ladies were ladies and people were celebrated for their talent, rather than their inability to wear knickers, you stood out for me. You out dance most, I've watched your partner try to keep up, lord only knows how bad you would make him look, if you took off your four inch heels.

Rewind and repeat were the order of the day, the weather was cold, inside and out were frozen, there was no escape from it, until I pressed play. Everything warmed up and I wanted to build a time machine because I thought it would be nice to talk to you. Maybe you could teach me a step or two, or maybe I could just borrow a dress...

Yours sincerely,

It's All White...

2009-12-12T08:38:00.003Z

Dear Bing Crosby,

It sounds like melting butter. and so, Christmas has arrived...

Yours sincerely,

Nipping At My Nose, Ears, Arms, Legs Etc...

2009-12-10T00:42:00.004Z

Dear Jack Frost,

You little trickster. I thought I knew you, but you were only playing with me, weren't you? I mean, we have spent a lot of time together in the past. Those of us with a passport embossed with the world Ireland are familiar with the damper, more bone chilling, mother of God will I ever be warm again side of you, that you sprinkle from time to time upon my homeland. Now though, as I sit here on holiday in Portland, like all of the most interesting men, I see that you held a side back.

I find myself cursing you and dressed like an onion, which, I might add, greatly impedes ones sexual activity. There are only so many layers one can strip off before boredom or exhaustion sets in, my favourite being a combination of the two. Do you think I'm hot? Well let me just get these four top layers off, break off my frozen mittens, unlace my boots, wipe the ice from my eyeballs and then we get to the juicy stuff, my thermal underwear, all six layers of it...People say reproduction thrives upon weather like this, having to stay indoors so much. I really think it's more to do with the idea of putting anything on, be it made of latex or anything else, when the best part of three hours has been spent undressing. Personally, I don't think there is anything wrong with sex in a cardigan, but maybe that's just me...

I wonder how you choose your targets Mr Frost, having just returned from a work trip around a positively mild Eastern Europe, what a waste of a beautiful fake fur bonnet, I do like a nice bonnet. You have chosen to summon your arctic powers and place them firmly upon my shoulders here in Portland. Indeed the natives feel the need to inform me that it is not usually this cold in an almost accusatory tone, like I had made you my travelling companion by choice. There was talk of burning me at the stake, or maybe there wasn't, it's hard to tell through the ear muffs.

Mr Frost, sweet kind Mr Frost, if you could find it in your frozen heart to warm up a degree of two for tomorrow so that my sightseeing takes me further than the emergency room/bonfire, I would be so grateful. Perhaps you could pay a wee visit to Eastern Europe, I hear it is unseasonably mild for this time of year...

Yours sincerely,

Pick On Someone Else...

2009-11-25T13:50:00.004Z

Dear Toothpick,

Please remove yourself from the hand of my dinner companion. Kindly stop digging at their gums whilst I try to finish my ice cream. Do the decent think and take a flying run off the table and make a break for the door. You belong in a bathroom, private and unobtrusive, discretion is key. Do you remember Vivian in Pretty Woman? Even she of the thigh highs and blow jobs had the decency to take herself off to remove strawberries seeds from her teeth, thus making herself an poster child for good oral hygiene and streetwalking at the same time, overachieving, multi tasking at it's finest. Yeah, she rescues him right back.

You really have no business stabbing away for the viewing displeasure of others. If you cannot find it in your heart to comply, then I shall be left with no other option than to gouge my own eyes out with you, so that I may enjoy my ice cream in peace...

Yours sincerely,

Journalism....?

2009-10-18T20:45:00.004+01:00

Dear Jan Moir,

Appalling. I'm really not sure if there is any other word for it. I think to make snide insinuating remarks about a man no longer here to defend himself is deplorable, at best it's lazy journalism. Lots of people in this world could write beautiful columns, that are informative, enriching and based in fact, hell take a look to the left of this page, pick a link, any link, what you'd find is infinitely more inspiring than the hate filled, bile inducing, "article" that passed for a column in your paper last Friday.

In this day and age, we should be celebrating each others differences and yet people like you, have yet to learn how to tolerate them. You may think you know everything, but in the face of a coroner's findings your words, if they weren't quite so horrid, well, they would be laughable. I think the doctor who investigated his death, well I'm guessing he spent a long time studying in order to obtain the qualification that enabled him to give Stephen's mother a reason for her son's untimely and shocking death. I'm not sure insinuating his mother is deluded in her beliefs about her son's death were warranted, perhaps a few words of kindness or sympathy were too much for your venomous fingers to type?

The thing is, everyone in this world if they are lucky, means the world to at least one other person, even if he wasn't famous, he would still be someone's brother, husband or son. Which in turn means the same for you, you are someone's wife, mother or daughter and for the reason alone, surely somewhere in you, there is compassion for others, maybe not, maybe years of working at that poisonous rag some like to call a newspaper, has clubbed it out of you.

I wouldn't try to defend your article, sometimes when you are wrong, and let's be clear, you are very wrong, the best course of action is simply to apologise...

Yours sincerely,

I Don't Like Mondays...

2009-10-04T20:32:00.004+01:00

Dear Sunday,

Today, I am in Vienna and I remembered what you were all about. Nothing was open, I slept in, I ate a long lazy breakfast, I went in a horse and carraige.

You have always been my favourite day of the week. Whenever working in the past, I always think it's a delightful treat if a day off falls on you. There's something about you that allows me to keep my p.j.s on and stay in bed with the papers. You couldn't ever imagine Tuesday allowing me to behave in such a fashion. Car Boots, couldn't possibly occur on a Thursday and I couldn't imagine a village hall, having a sale of work on any other day but you.

I wonder if you miss the days before gigantic shopping centres, the days when people actually spent time together instead of racing around ugly buildings buying things they neither wanted nor could afford? I run the risk of sounding like someone's nan here, but I'll take it for you Sunday. Do you feel hard done by when someone has a McMurderers, instead of a Sunday roast? You know, the kind of breaking the bread that bring families together, instead of the kind of meal that gives your kid cancer/diabetes and has the audacity to call it a happy meal.

I liked that today I could do nothing but walk around and see some stuff I hadn't seen before. I liked that nothing unimportant was allowed to distract me from architecture and blue sky. I liked hanging out with you Sunday and I hope to do it again very soon...

Yours sincerely,

Dumped...

2009-09-07T21:39:00.005+01:00

Dear Blog,

It's not you, it's me. You've waited patiently whilst I spent the Summer gallavanting here, there and everywhere, only to remain unrewarded when Autumn came knocking. The heady days of Summer took me over and I set about doing new things and somehow managed to ignore the one thing that makes me happiest of all. I have taken you for granted and been a bad blog friend. You should dump me, really, teach me a lesson.

I didn't mean to neglect you, it's just travel, romance, bbq's, that damn extra daylight got in the way. It would be days before I even noticed I hadn't checked in with you. I realised today how much I missed you, darkness hit at an unfeasibly early hour and you were the one I wanted to turn to. I hope you are still here for me my friend and that I haven't become so out of practice that we remain frosty, Winter can be cold enough.

I bought some nice fingerless gloves today, so chilly or not, my fingers have run out of excuses...

Yours sincerely,

Where's Da Flava...?

2009-08-28T08:30:00.003+01:00

Dear Salt,

Pepa is going to the roller disco without you. Pepa will miss Salt...

Yours sincerely,

Two Legs Good, Eight Wheels Better...

2009-08-28T08:16:00.002+01:00

Dear Roller Disco,

Finally we meet again. We haven’t been together since I was eight. They shut you down in Dublin and my heart hasn’t been the same since. It’s been a long time since I was eight, but some wounds take longer then others to heal, for example, the ones I am bound to inflict this weekend…I have often been described as clumsy, clumsy is a really nice way to say walking disaster.

Such is my desire to be in your company I am even attending a festival to be with you. Don’t get me wrong, festivals are lovely things, if you discount the smelly folk, the excess of poo and people who wear stupid hats, but a considerable chunk of my Summer is often spent at them in a work capacity, so the idea of going to one just for fun, well, when I say busman's, you say holiday.

I hear most people are bringing tents and wellies. I’m bringing a gold one piece and some lipgloss. Sometimes a girl just has to honour Patti and Donna. It’s the right thing to do….

Yours sincerely,

Seconds Away...

2009-08-24T17:57:00.004+01:00

Dear Feelings,

Aren't you tired of being in charge? Don't you want to take a little rest and just let head take over for a bit? He knows it's for the best, he knows logic will win out, he can do a Rubik's Cube in under a minute, so honestly he'll find a way to get us back on the straight and narrow if you just let him run things for a while. He'll have us in bed by a decent hour, he'll have us up and busy and distracted in no time.

Feelings, I don't mean to be rude, but you're a bit of a bore. Always so melodramatic and making mountains out of molehills, we know this to be true, because a month or two from now, we'll be giggling over what all the fuss was over, if not giggling, at the very least we'll be bemused...

Head is chomping at the bit, he's dying to gain control, he has all sorts of plans, first thing on his list is tackling procrastination. Once he's knocked him out I'm pretty sure inertia will follow quite quickly and once those two are out of the picture, that miserable little toad we know as sadness can't possibly stick around.

Go on feelings, just let go, you would if you loved me...

Yours sincerely,

Tanning Is What You Do To Leather...

2009-08-20T00:06:00.004+01:00

Dear Pool Party,

Do you expect me to be delighted, excited even, at being one of the chosen? Let me bust out a few home truths, pool party, in terms of lexicon, is up there with potato famine, these Irish eyes aren't smiling.

Despite a summer spent working abroad and one long hot week in New York, someone still ran at me today with a defibrillator in an attempt to warm me up a few shades, stat. So, how in holy hell am I to succeed in transforming this particular shade of corpse by Friday? That is, and I quote, two more sleeps. Bearing in mind dipping myself in wood stain is not an option, two coats of St Tropez in and I am now the colour of milk. Which your chloriney goodness shall see fit to strip quicker than a cheap hooker during happy hour. There is fear in my heart, no Jedi am I. Jesus, if only I were lucky enough to be the same shade as Yoda.

Still, there is comfort to be had, for example, the massive floor to ceiling windows in the restaurant that overlook the pool... The restaurant I shall be eating in afterwards. I can only hope my flesh will have so blinded all inside that the waitress will need a guide dog to bring me cocktails and that the patrons will use their breadsticks as a handy walking aid.

Pool Party? There's an oxymoron in there somewhere...

Yours sincerely,

Erase...

2009-08-15T23:08:00.001+01:00

Dear Ting Tings,

I would like to put you in a box marked Katy Perry and return to sender. I do not care what your name is...

Yours sincerely,

Like A Magpie...

2009-08-14T11:58:00.010+01:00

Dear Bank Balance,

What did you expect? We were in New York for God's sake! I'm sorry I've put a rather large dent in you but for what it's worth the lapsed Catholic guilt that has such a firm stranglehold upon me now, is making it hard to draw breath. This should provide some comfort as breath is an important part of making movement possible, if I sit here suffocating long enough that means I shan't be able to make a trip to a cashpoint or shop for days...

Whilst I sit here though I shall look at all the lovely purchases you made possible. Yes, yes, I know stuff is not really what's important in life. I think the person who said that has never been to New York, I'm guessing they are sitting somewhere weaving a rather earnest looking blanket made out of yoghurt. Cleaning my new flat in my 1940's playsuit is bringing out the Suzy homemaker in me, it's almost pleasurable, I might even bake a pie. It's perfectly acceptable for me to wear a peacock feather headband whilst I do that, right?

Anyway I will replenish you shortly, we have a rather long work trip ahead of us which, like squirrels gathering nuts, should see us set for winter. Besides didn't you get a small thrill when the Bank Manager saw Balthazar on your statement? On the plus side, now that we can't afford to eat, how fierce (insert three clicks as necessary) are we gonna look in our new duds?

In the meantime, I'm just going to count to ten, I feel a real serious game of hide and seek about to start between us and our accountant....

Yours sincerely,