Love Letter

The Difficult Second Album

February 18th.....

Dear Tom,

Oh my goodness! Have you ANY idea how grateful - and excited - I am?  Sorry, I told you I had no filter ! Thank you so much for your letter. It was - and is beyond kind of you.

So, where do I begin? At the beginning, I suppose. Oh, and yes, the quote? Wild Geese, Mary Oliver. Great poem, by the way.  Try me with another, and give it your best shot. I promise, Brownie Guide's honour not to Google!!!

So yes. Beginning. Well, I, too, am a cake lover - probably a little too much if I'm completely honest. I actually really like rhubarb, so as a bonus, you have an instant solution to 'what do I do with the rhubarb crumble?' if you ever need it. Ha ha!

I like cats, a lot and I like dogs too, but I couldn't eat a whole one....badum tish.... sorry, old and not very funny, joke but it's gotta be done!  Seriously though, if I'd had the time for one, I'd have had a dog. Pity really, the choices you make in life. No time for a dog but plenty of time for a man who turned out to be a selfish twat. Hmmm. Still, a story for another day, methinks.

Tell me about your week, please Tom? Mine is going to be shitty. Really, REALLY shitty. The kind you wish you could fast forward through? I have an appointment for another scan. To see how things have changed. I'm scared Tom. I'm really scared.

Ok, well, now I've killed the mood, enough about that.

We're here to have fun, not get depressed! I've decided to use my enforced downtime to learn Spanish. And French. This could get confusing. I won't know my derrier from my Spanish Archer..... get it? My Arse from my 'El Bow'..... ok, you can stop groaning now.... you've got to know one just as bad. I mean good!

My favourite Shakespeare character, eh? Ok, I'll bite. Henry V. And no, before you start prancing around the living room telling all and sundry - or Luke and Bobby at least - what a hero you are, it's NOT because of you. Well, not ALL. I must say the red leather doublet was a stroke of costumed genius tho!

No, I love Henry because he was my first. My first play, my first King, and my first foray into what makes someone tick. He's a king, yes. But he's also a man, with a man's failings. Vulnerability, temper, suspicion. Through it all, he takes the hard decisions, but none of the credit. Giving that instead to God.  Oh, and the fact he's young, virile, and has an ass to die for???? Oops. Filter failure again !

Ok, so I've told you mine, let's hear yours....

Tom, before we go any further I... well, I need to be honest with you.

This letter writing? I honestly never expected it. I really thought I'd get a lovely standard PR reply and maybe a photo. You writing to me? Blown me away. So, please bear with me if I ramble. Don't judge me too harshly? I've never written to a God / King / Explorer/ Soldier / Vampire before.

Talking of Vampires.... what was the blood really made of????? And did you get to keep the sunglasses? They were lovely.

I have to apologise in advance for the stain on the corner of the page. My cat Lokitty - yes go on laugh it up - decided to knock my tea over as he lay down to wash his bits (charming) and I didn't realise the letter was so close. Still, makes it authentic, eh?

How does Bobby cope when you're away? Does he have a favourite sitter? Does he go with you? Do I ever stop asking questions?

I think we both know the answer to the last one.

Tom, to be serious for a moment, thank you. For being kind and generous, for being authentic and unflinchingly honest. But most of all, no matter how long or short we correspond, thank you for giving me these moments to treasure. In the dark, scary nights and the long, painful days to come, I know they will sustain me.

Now, enough of the serious stuff. Favourite tv show? As a kid? Swapshop (God, I just realised you probably won't remember that. I'm soooooooo old!) As an adult? Toss up between Blackadder and Morcambe & Wise, even now. You?

First album? Queen. Greatest Hits. Nothing like a bit of Bohemian Rhapsody turned up to the 10!!

I bet you were something far more intelligent and worthy. Vivaldi, The Four Seasons or something. Or maybe "Shakespeare to Run To ...."  Sorry, couldn't resist.  But spill Hiddleston, spill.

Ok, its late - very late - and I should be asleep.

Scan day tomorrow.

Take care, sorry again for the ramblings,

All my best, all my love
Alison.

Ps Did you hear about the magic tractor.......???????

She smiled and licked the envelope, sealing away another conversation. Like the best albums, the follow-up letter is always hard.  How to strike the right tone. Chatty but not over familiar, relaxed but not cheesy.

Oh well, she thought to herself. The only way is up. If he'd replied to her first attempt, then she couldn't have been that bad. The fact he'd given her a special address to use? Anyone else and she would have suspected a subtle brush off.

Not Tom, though.

Never Tom.

He just wasn't that type. This had been his way of saying I trust you're not a crazy stalker without saying I trust you're not a crazy stalker. It made her glow a little.

As she stuck the stamp on the envelope, she ran her fingers over the address. She had her suspicions whose it was, but she wouldn't say anything. Not yet. 

She just prayed she would get the chance to ask him in person one day.