Letter to Rebecca 24-02

My reply to her reply to my letter, which was a reply etc etc

Dear Rebecca

Thank you for your most interesting epistle. I’m pleased that you adopted my new numbering system: you know it makes sense.

But listen: before I address the content of your letter, I must tell you how excited I am. While rummaging in the Freedman Towers ‘library in boxes¹’, I came across a book I think would be just up your street. Every so often you post photos of your handwritten lists, so I immediately thought of you when I came across this:

It has some great sections in it, like these for instance:

Now, in case Jim feels excluded, I came across a useful one for him too:

Nay, nay, no need to thank me. I’m just glad to be able to spread a little warmth and goodwill.

I liked your video; the snow against the light of your station lamp is very beautiful. How did you acquire that by the way? I’ve heard of students nicking street signs — when I was at Liverpool Uni the local authority stopped bothering to replace the one for Penny Lane — but station lamps?

I agree with you that it was remiss of Chas and Cam to not seek an audience with you. It’s probably because you’re not regal enough. If, like me, you’re as common as muck, you have to adopt extreme measures. When we used to leave my in-laws on a Sunday evening, having done our charity work for the week, Elaine would drive while I would sit in the passenger seat giving them the royal wave that I’d perfected over many years of observing Liz et al. You should try it.

Regarding Austen, I haven’t come across “All roads lead to Austen”, but I shall seek it out. I love the quotation:

“Amy came to learn what Austen knew all along: that we’re not always speaking the same language – even when we’re speaking the same language.”

It reminds me of a post I wrote about the differences between English English and American English:

I haven’t read that edition of Emma, but it may be the same as the one I saw in the British Library bookshop last week. They have some lovely editions of classic novels there, as does Foyles. However, much as I like them, I prefer ones that include an introduction and notes, because what they lack in beatuty they make up for in knowledge. I recently bought several Austen novels in the Oxford World Classics range. They look quite nice, have nice covers and contain a lot of contextual information:

And before you say anything, that book called The Life of Crime isn’t my autobiography. It’s a massive encyclopaedia about crime novels. I wrote about it just before Christmas. I especially liked this:

David Goodis wrote noir fiction that apparently was so bleak that another novelist, Ed Gorman, said of Goodis that:

He didn’t write novels, he wrote suicide notes.

<Guffaw>

Spray painting potholes with phalluses is a brilliant idea. Maybe I should spray paint the pavement at the Puddlegate bus stop in such a way that after a deluge the resulting lake looks like a giant breast or something. I wonder if that would make the powers-that-be do something useful.

Latest news at Freedman Towers is that we have unpacked a load of books and put them back on shelves — this time in a semblance of order. One of these days, I keep telling myself, I’ll do it properly. I’ll use the Dewey system for nonfiction, and alphabetical order of author for fiction. Mind you, I think a better idea would be to arrange them chromatically, ie by colour. As long as we can remember what colour a particular book is, we should be able to find it quickly. I’ve no idea why public libraries aren’t organised like that.

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this, Becks, and to everyone reading over our shoulders, do make sure you subscribe to Rebecca’s newsletter in order to not miss her reply.

And to mine of course!

1. From when we had decorating done. My advice to men whose female partners decide that decorating has to take place: book yourself on a long cruise. With a bit of luck it will all be over by the time you get back.