Letter to Rebecca #5

How I came to know my rights, and other ramblings

Dear Rebecca

Thank you for your nice letter. You always set such a high bar in terms of erudition, and now artwork. Why can’t you be an uneducated, illiterate slob like me?

Errata

Do you remember how you made a mistake when copying and pasting the ‘leave a comment’ bit? So did

Mark R DeLong

. Also, Holly of

Release and Gather

had to send an email saying she’d accidentally disabled comments? Well I have joined the happy throng of Substack incompetents. Yesterday I wrote an article and was going to proofread when I thought, “Proofread? Don’t make me laugh. I’m a professional. I always turn out perfect copy at the first go.”

As soon as I posted it I realised that although I’d written “… and get a load of this picture of Ophelia” (or words to that effect), I hadn’t actually included it. I had to update the post and then send out another one called Oops. The picture at the top of this letter is a self-portrait I drew at the time.

New year resolutions

I don’t do new year resolutions, for reasons I set out here:

My reading plans for 2023

The only new year resolution I’ve ever kept is the one I made years ago to stop making new year resolutions. Or at least the insane ones, like I’m going to work out for three hours a day. I joined a gym a few years ago and availed myself of the personal training option. This bloke was 21 and thought I was too. He was training for the Olympics and thought I was too. It nearly killed me. After each session with him I could hardly walk.

Puddlegate

I like your term ‘puddlegate’. Brilliant! Those potholes of yours look pretty nasty. I’m glad to say that our local council is, at long last, taking the puddle at our bus stop seriously. They have erected a new sign:

Unsafe ground, by Terry Freedman

Slipper drawings

Your slipper drawings are excellent. Very deftly drawn. However, if I may venture a small criticism, they’re far too detailed, far too complicated. Here are my drawings of boots. Not only are they simpler, they’re more realistic because they have feet inside them:

Bovver boots, by Terry Freedman

Artwork

Your artwork is wonderful. I took up art many years ago. One day, while I was painting, the doorbell went. I answered it, forgetting that, in order to get myself into the correct frame of mind, I was wearing a smock and a beret. The person at the door was a friend of mine, thank goodness: not someone official or a colleague. My art consisted of either cartoons, landscapes or abstract, cos I can’t draw realistic stuff. You may have noticed.

Stephen King’s advice

I’m not sure I entirely agree with Stephen King’s advice to take out everything except the story. Sometimes the diversions can be quite entertaining. I suppose on the whole he’s right: another version of Kill your darlings, which I think was Hemingway, and Chekhov’s If there’s a gun in the first act it has to be used by the third, or something like that (the implication being: otherwise why include it in the first place?).

I know my rights!

I adopted this expression after years of listening to people rolling up to school and saying things like “I want to see the headmistress. I know my rights!” The kids would say it too:

Urchin: You can’t put me in detention. I know my rights.

Me: I know my rights too! You’ve got a detention!

When I was lodging in a colleague’s flat, I used to use it whenever she offered me tea:

M: I’m making tea. Would you like a cup?

Me: I don’t have to have tea. I can have coffee if I want. I know my rights.

This all came back to bite me one Saturday. We lived in a really quiet road. I don’t think more than three people ever walked past our place in a day. However, on the occasion I’m about to relate, about six women, three teenaged girls and a few little girls walked past just as I was about to get in my car. I was off to see a friend of mine, and M and I had just exchanged a very pleasant “Goodbye” and “Have a lovely day”.

As I opened the car door, the upstairs window flew open and M stuck her head out of it:

M: And if you come round again making those kinds of suggestions I’ll get the law onto you!

All these girls and women were giving me a “You’re disgusting!” look.

Me: Shhh!

M: Don’t you shush me. I know my rights!

After the ladies had passed, I said to M, thanks a bunch! They now all think I’m a perv.

“I know!” said M, sporting the broadest grin I’ve ever seen. “Have a nice day!”

Umbrella

I liked the story of an umbrella, fully opened to boot, being found on a desk. I did once find a cup of tea and a plate of toast under my bed while I was at uni. But that’s a saga for a future letter.

I’m looking forward to your reply at

Dear Reader, I'm lost

next Wednesday.

Bye for now

Dr Tel