As I said in my e-mail Mr Jones I’ve got this stuff I need to shift. The youngest is moving back home and we need the space. You can see I’ve collected some interesting stuff over the years. Take those windows back there, portals they are, programmed to take you anywhere in the universe. In fact, I’ve got one at the back that’s an entrance to a parallel universe. Then there’s my pride of joy, the lavatory. Straight from Hogwarts. Even comes with its own ghost. All yours for just £100 and I’ll throw in the bath for free.
You’ll find a hook in the drawer, dear and there’s a small pot of chain linking on the top. This being your first day I want you to crochet me something small and simple, just to give me an idea of your skill level. Some of the apprentices they send me are awful. I had one last week who couldn’t tell a darning needle from a soup ladle. I had to send her back to the kitchens. But you look as if you’ve got more about you. Another two years and we’ll have you knitting full sets of chain mail.
Another wet summer camping in Brittany. Every year we do this, every bloody year! I hoped, once the kids left home, we’d end this annual nightmare, but he won’t have it. Says he looks forward to meeting up with Maureen and Jim from Barnsley and Betty and Kenneth from Sidcup.
God, the thought of another year, sitting in a leaky tent, listening to Maureen from Barnsley go on about her delphiniums and Kenneth from Sidcup bringing us up to date with his gallstones, is more than I can bear.
Maybe this year I really will throw myself overboard, mid-channel.