Mail to Poofy and Persian Princess
Wednesday 20 February
Dear Poofy
Tell
I've started
a 'blog'. I have little respect for that word, but just have to get over the
fact it exists and entered the English language long ago.
It is partly
a way of keeping on track. I find when I write things down, it helps to keep me
a bit more focussed in times of overload especially. I have only just realised
this lately.
I would like
to be able to include the recent mail trail between you and I, Pete - the one
about Gossips, your one about Valour, Art ... Francis Bacon /Melvyn Bragg. Thanks for the latter especially - as you were quite right - a must see, indeed, and very pertinent.
If I don't
hear from you by the time I get to Bombay, and have had a one-night sleepover
this Thurs/Friday, to get over my long haul flight, I may make an
"executive" decision, and bung our correspondence up on the blog
anyway. I hope not to resort to this option - which doesn't sit with me well,
as it is partly your intellectual property. But as a pedantic reference-maker,
I feel I may not have a choice in the matter, as I am rather liked my side of
the correspondence. So I would reference your 'work' by naming you some such
thing that feels right at the time ... Maybe Lord Rendlesham might suit?
I don't know
what it is about you Pete, but you seem to bring the best out of me - in spite
of your extreme rudeness over the years, e.g. going for the jugular, where
no-one would dare, and your penchant/obsession for slamming the phone on me
mid-sentence over the last decades. While knowing full well I am a very
sensitive soul. You should do by now, you git, ha.
You are a
very lucky man indeed to have met Natalie. Though we all know that you've had
this peculiar idiosyncratic magic touch with "women" - Laura and that
mumsy bird you picked up in your suffolk gravestone-dreaming days, to name but
two.
I feel that
we are doing a role reversal. Particularly after what you pointed out during
our last conversation. That you spent about 21 years driving psychiatrists
round the twist and living on government hand-outs. You and Machado, as you may
have known at the time, played up to the fact that you were the real-life "Withnail
and I", well before the film even came out. Though the reality of your
Camden squalor was even darker and filthier - compared with the celluloid
fantasy.
Meanwhile, I
have not driven many psychiatrists round the bend. Though I fear that I may
have just started to, this past year with my social worker. I suspect he
wouldn't feel that way about me, as it would appear that he is a person with
enormous self- compassion, kindness, patience and charity - which is consequently reflected onto me. Rapport is such a luxury, don't you find?
~ ~ ~ ~
Dear N, I'm
copying you in on this as I suspect that due to work commitments and his
occasional social swanning around, your "husband" may not get the
chance to see this in time. I hope you don't mind giving him a gentle
"prompt" in the computer direction.
As usual, I
hope wish you and Bubba Ive, a good day under today's grey morning skies. I
hope Bubba is chugging away nicely. Bless him. Oh, I have a baby hot water bottle for him, though this will have to wait until next autumn, as I return in spring, after my travels.
Love
Y x
p.s. this is going up on today's Blog as I type ...
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