They call us “The Windrush Generation,” but I never came to England on any banana boat. I flew in from Kingston to London on a TWIA flight and was there in under 12-hours from door-to-door. I had no desire whatsoever to be cooped up onboard a ship at sea with all and sundry for weeks on end.
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My dear Jimmy, I have a moment at 2:45 pm and I am writing before my programme starts. Just came back from lunch. Had so much meat, the restaurant must have killed a whole lamb and a calf, too. Ate as much as I could and brought back some for the DOG. Now, who or what is that?
Does it seem as if I always only turn to you in times of need, my dearest Jimmy? I must appear to you like some Christians who only ever turn to prayer when they need the Lord’s grace. Do forgive me, sweetheart. I know that only you truly understand me, and you must know by now that my overactive mind always welcomes your ear.
How are you, Jimmy, my boy? Fine, I hope, and much better than your other half, I trust. You will not be surprised to learn that I gave Audrey’s wedding a miss. Just before I left London, I had thought at length about whether or not I should go. I turned it over and over in my mind right up until the time I arrived here at the “Y”, and I finally decided not to attend on the day I went to see Constance, and Pat did not seem to know me. Or even worst, she did not want to know me.