Hi Toady, how are you, sweetheart? Fine, I pray. I hope you are missing me the way I miss you. You old so and so.

I watched CH38 yesterday, all religious happenings – smile. Still, the things about Israel made even Toby sit up for a bit to watch and listen. Heard they have found oil on its borders. Wouldn’t that be just what the doctor ordered? A real Godsend. Hope the “find” is a good one, the very best ever. Such oil wealth is needed in those parts.

CH38 was good for me. At least, I shed no tears yesterday. Hope the fountain dries up soon. Crying damages the area around the eyes. As my eyes have always been too large and tend to attract other eyes, my already back-of-a-bus face is looking positively ancient. I do not want your friends to accuse you of robbing the grave. They who would prefer you to rob the cradle instead. They say one cannot teach an old dog new tricks, especially when that old dog has a mind of its own, but with a young dog now, one can turn him or her into whatever one chooses.

Not much to report. It was a quiet day. I do not feel too safe from prying eyes. I am keeping my observations firmly under wraps. Providing my memory holds out, I’ll talk to you when I see you. We’ll sit under a tree in the park sharing our cheese and pickle sandwiches and talk to our hearts’ content once again. This time around, we will ignore the pigeons. But if those damn birds leave their monogrammed calling cards again, I hope they leave them on you and not on me. That stuff can be sticky. Still, just think of the fun we will have getting it off. An extra special date in the not too distant future would make that possibility rather appealing. You know, here comes the bridegroom. Still, hope springs eternal. There is no fool like an old fool. Good things come to those who wait, and one can always dream and hitch one’s waggon to a star—etcetera, etcetera, etcetera.

Hope Lives Eternal: Park Bench Pigeons

Hope Lives Eternal: Park Bench Pigeons

Paul says he is buying a new Rover shortly. He has not passed his test, but that does not deter him. He says he is thirty this year. It is about time he has a car. He is a late developer my son, but he has left that particular one rather late. Still, that’s Paul for you. Since he could not have the best and for a poor man, a poor man’s Rolls Royce – a Rover – does not come any better. He can now put his mountain bike in the basement and only take it out for keep-fit purposes. His only regret is that he cannot risk a convertible in Brixton. They will use a knife to pierce the top just for spite.

Hope Jacqui finds her way soon, too, so that she can change her Escort 1.6 GL for an Escort 1.6 XR31 or something similar. Even if it’s just to take Kailey to school. She wanted a Mitsubishi Jeep, but chance would be a fine thing. Audrey was talking the other day about the relationship she has with Marks’ boy. I listened to her and thought to myself, how civilised. His mother must be a very dear person who can see far beyond the tip of her pointed nose. It’s nice to think there are folks like her who realise that some people are not as “black” as they may look and that one can learn from anybody.

Children are very astute. They tend to be able to recognise goodness if exposed to it. I pray that some little ones who will one day control the family firm will be allowed to associate with people other than those that look like themselves. I hope that the kids will have the way-with-all and confidence to fraternise naturally. Once little people realise that me and mine respect others for what they are but that we do not stand on ceremony for anyone, it ought to be plain sailing for a long and lasting friendship.

Now Toady, as Frostie would say, “It’s over to you.” As I say, not much to report. See you in dreamland.

Yours, as always, with love and a billion kisses.

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