It would seem that Miss Jones was always a woman of letters. And with that sentence I've just fulfilled a secret ambition to be the kind of individual who refers to themselves in the the third person.
I've been doing a good deal of spring cleaning lately – punctuality never my forte – and I've found pages upon pages of creative endeavours from my childhood, including all manner of notes, such as the above. It seems that my parents could barely go to the end of the road without me composing some kind of sonnet cycle celebrating their return.
However, despite the affectionate declarations, I think the subtext is quite clear. Mum, can I have some sweets?
And talking of sweets:
This pavement in Dulwich on Saturday could have meant only one thing: the catalyst for a nuclear tantrum. Or a gingerbread cottage just a quarter-pound's worth of pick and mix away. OK, that's two things.
3 comments:
You were obviously far more affectionate than me as a child - my mum went to parents' evening when I was five and found the following loving words under the title 'My Mum' - 'My Mum is short and fat with greasy hair'. She was devastated!
I trust you realise that when you are rich and famous I will be reclaiming this early example of your literary prowess, with a view to financing my villa in Tuscany.
I like the fact you started off writing "I love you as much as I love you". That would have been a great letter - "No more, no less. Take it or leave it; it is simply how I feel."
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