LETTERS TO BIG LYNN

Watcha mate,

Really must get down to the opticians, just read an email that said, replies to ENQs and read it as UFO's for some reason, and wondered if I had joined some conspiracy ET cult when I had had a few?  

Anyway, it was nothing more exciting than curtains.  Such is life, its been my greatest joy these days. Lynn, you would have totally got the sheer bliss of redecorating a new home and starting from scratch. Of course, you can get almost the same kick, just by redoing one room, but I generally go for the former, not usually through choice as you well know, I hasten to add, and do you remember during one house-move, when 'you know who' remarked 'wouldn't it be easier to get the hoover out?  He could be very droll. I can hear your big old, booming cockney voice now, saying 'you what? bleeding cheek!' Then we would roar with laughter, and think he might have had a point.  What went wrong?  We both became hoarders - you more so than me, bless ya, more of which to come another time.

Suffice to say, the pair of us used to be so house proud when we were younger - you much more so than me, and I was in awe at that bejewelled cover you got for light chord in your bathroom!  You had been to the Ideal Home Exhibition  and you were deliriously ecstatic explaining every gadget you  could physically carry home with you. Must be said though, I have yet to forgive you for welding those false nails to the skin underneath the enamel of my finger tips- I knew you were getting carried away with that nail file!  Doh!  Do you have any idea of the agonies I went through getting them off? 

I'll take it as payback for when we were 16, and you let me perm your hair.  No, as I remember you asked me to perm it, I doubt we will ever agree on that one.  I know we would always got the giggles when we remembered it.  It had the kind of tight curls that not even a hacksaw could penetrate, let alone a comb.  Nothing quite like walking down to the phonebox as a teenage girl wearing a scarf to tell your dad you would have to stay with me overnight, as you couldn't travel home on the bus because you looked like Hilda Ogden! 

I miss you old fruit and I have imaginary conversations with you in my head and they make me smile.  Even a simple mundane piece of news, like the joys of frozen mashed potatoe, could lead to an in depth 3 hour phone discussion.  By the way, I am eternally grateful to you for recommending those round stainless steel ball thingys.  They have saved me from throwing out any more burnt saucepans.  

I want to tell you things that make me laugh, tell you about people who get on my wick.  When I see something out of the ordinary, I think, I must tell Lynn that, that would make her laugh, or Lynn would understand. 

I began to understand the pain of widowhood, and the sheer resilience of women of a similar age and older.  Both Lynn and I remained single, probably through choice.  Heterosexual, not that it matters, though don't think anyone would have had us to be honest - we were both barmy.   

For some reason, I still feel as though you here Lynn, I have no idea why. I change my religion and beliefs on an almost weekly basis, I don't know if its a spiritual thing, or maybe you were my soul mate, like a married couple.  I have just never felt as if you went away. And I never realised how much I relied on you.   

Then I remembered all those ago, when you worked in Italy, and the absolute glee of receiving your letters.  I would read them over and over, and would hoot with laughter all day.

You were in Italy for several years as an au pair and had learned much of the lingo, especially boys names (yes, we were once that young) oh, and how to order a bacardi and coke with ice and lemon in fluent Italian, albeit, very loudly and with a hint of cockney.

The point is, I feel as though I have had a bit of an epiphany.  I've just realised that I can chat to you, I can send you letters, like we used to.