Dear Readers,
It has been a while, yes. I feel like these letters are becoming more intermittent. I don’t know if that means anything, and I’m happy with the current pace of things. It’s been a busy few months. The Muse and myself are in India, in the woods somewhere outside of Ahmedabad, surrounded by squawking peacocks and thieving chipmunks. It is mighty craic altogether.
I’m not going to ramble too much in this letter – instead I’m going to relay another letter that I received. It’s a curious thing, and I thought you might like to read it. Here it is:
Dear True Love,
Merry Christmas. I can only assume that you haven't received any of my earlier letters because of the postal strike, so I am writing to thank you again for your incredible generosity, though I fear I may have to return some of the gifts that you sent.
I was initially delighted to receive the tree – I love pears, as you know – but I’m not sure if you meant to send another one every day? Maybe there was a problem at the online checkout. Also, the trees came with little birds in them – twelve altogether I think, though it’s a little difficult to keep track as my house is now filled with birds of all shapes and sizes, sent by you. The first two turtle doves were cute but the subsequent twenty… not so much. And thirty French hens? No need to rub it in. Then there’s about three dozen feathery things called calling birds that I’ve never even heard of, I’ve had the palace on the phone for the last seven days concerning the whereabouts of seven of the king’s favourite swans (currently swimming in the bath) and the geese have pecked most of the needles off my Christmas tree. Still, at least they all lay plenty of eggs – which is just as well as thanks to you I have many more mouths to feed.
It was fine when it was just the maids and the ladies – we all had a lovely time dancing and making custard. The problem is the lords, really – they won’t leave the ladies alone and they just can not sit still, always jumping around the place. I’m looking forward to the day that Starmer abolishes them. At least the pipers and drummers keep the lords in line, but it’s louder in here now than on bonfire night. I’ve had the council round threatening me with an ASBO, and when they saw all the birds they fined me for not having a valid poultry keeper’s licence – as if being up to my ankles in birdshit wasn’t bad enough.
I know you mean well, darling, but please please, don’t send me anything else.
Yours festively,
Pickle
p.s. Thank you for the gold rings, I’ve pawned them to cover the gas bill.
p.p.s. All I wanted was an airfryer.
I don’t think it was meant for me. Anyhow, I hope you are all well. Until next time.
Yours sincerely,
Paul