by
Hannah Retallick
Champagne
Margaret,
Perhaps
you might have noticed that I’ve put out your recycling bins this morning. I
wasn’t sure if you had intended to and forgotten, or whether, due to their being
only half full, you had judged it best to save them until next week. If the
latter, my apologies.
Kind
regards,
Fred.
Margaret,
You
might be interested to know that I intend to hire a skip soon, too big to be
filled by myself alone. You are welcome to make use of it. Anything from fallen
trees to broken fridges, or even old planks from the patio.
Kind
regards,
Fred.
Margaret,
A
belated happy birthday. It is a shame that you could not have a proper
celebration. The balloon display is most impressive, though.
Best
wishes,
Fred.
P.S.
I find it hard to believe that you have reached the age of 70. I am happy to
report that, health allowing, it is a wonderful decade. (I say this with some
trepidation; I have three years more before I can give a comprehensive
account.)
Margaret,
Thank
you for your note. It was much appreciated.
I’m
glad you liked it. A happy coincidence: I also love hedgehogs. I’m sorry that it
wasn’t a birthday card; I thought it best not to venture to the Post Office in
this ‘present climate’, seeing as I am in the ‘vulnerable’ category. (As are
you, now, I might add!)
I
suppose I have always been this way. I cannot think of the right things to say
in person. My mother once said that I could be a great orator, if my mind were
to work a mere five seconds quicker; it is no longer a problem with close family
and friends, but I still find it difficult with relative strangers.
Fred.
Margaret,
Thank
you for your note. It is rather fun, isn’t it? It puts me in mind of a young
lady I once knew; we used to enjoy exchanging secret letters. She also lived
next door. It is not often that the concept of ‘history repeating itself’ feels
so optimistic.
Best
wishes,
Fred.
P.S.
For the sake of full disclosure, I must add that my association with the young
lady ended when she ‘took a shine’ to the paper boy. I trust that will not
happen in this case!
Margaret,
Thank
you for your note. I can’t quite read your second paragraph, but perhaps you
could tell me what it contains in person.
That
would be delightful. Should we pretend to bump into each other, coincidentally?
Should we walk on opposite sides of the road? I am, of course, joking. I shall
meet you outside at ‘precisely 10am or thereabouts’, as my dad used to
say.
Best
wishes,
Fred.
Margaret,
Thank
you, again, for a lovely day. It was most enjoyable, although your knowledge of
sea birds puts me to shame. Perhaps we might take a different route next time,
somewhere with hedgerows, for instance. I would fare much better.
Love,
Fred.
P.S.
When we next meet, would you mind if I walk in front? My hearing is not what it
was, and two metres is quite a stretch.
About
the author
Hannah
Retallick is a twenty-six-year-old from Anglesey, North Wales. She was home
educated and then studied with the Open University, graduating with a
First-class honours degree, BA in Humanities with Creative Writing and Music,
and is studying for an MA in Creative Writing. She was shortlisted in the
Writing Awards at the Scottish Mental Health Arts Festival 2019, the Cambridge
Short Story Prize,
the Henshaw Short Story Competition June 2019, and the Bedford International
Writing Competition 2019. https://ihaveanideablog.wordpress.com/
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