Michael took me to the quaintest little club. Very nice place with a charming atmosphere. The shock came when I was saying goodnight to him outside my house. He asked me to stop writing to Alan. He said he liked me and he wanted to take me out but as things are he just feels as if he is filling in time.
Have just got myself a jug of Ovaltine and will now try to write 20 pages or so. (says I with tongue in cheek). It’s gonna be awkward because this boyo hasn’t a clue what to write about. I suppose you must have gathered that by now. I do try to write as many pages as possible about nothing in particular. Reckon it must be good training in case the Daily Mirror require my services as their editor or something.
Boy, am I glad to be writing to you. That sounds a bit funny, I’ll explain. I developed a guilty conscience about the letters I had to answer and I’ve really been getting down to it tonight. My arm’s absolutely dropping off. Most of the time I’ve just been sitting here trying to think of something to write. Then when I do think of something I have to translate it from my own special type of grammar to the sort of English they’d understand.
First, I must apologise for not answering your letter sooner. It is simply ages since I have written. I am sorry.
My family have all gone to bed but as I have a day off work tomorrow I have decided to stay up late and catch up on all my letter-writing while the house is peaceful.
Went to see ‘Carry on Regardless’. I thought it was very funny, but Michael didn’t think much of it. Nor did Carol and Clive who we met in the foyer, which was quite disappointing for all concerned!
Hello Maureen. How are you today? Recovered from your exhaustive weekend I hope. Don’t suppose you could have been more tired as I was first thing Monday morning. Suppose it’s my own fault for playing too much football on Sunday.
Monday was quite a day because the kind sergeant was good enough to let yours truly have the afternoon off.