Dear David

It must be my guilty conscience working and I do realise that I haven’t yet phoned or emailed to thank you for fixing my misbehaving Netbook but working your way into my dreams is a little excessive, don’t you think? Yet there you were in the middle of the night looking down from some balcony or other – although of course it was almost certainly daytime wherever you were – and worrying, not about the Netbook but about a key which I hadn’t returned. A very tiny key with a fancy head. I wasn’t sure that I knew much about this key but there was something twanging on my conscience of course and I realised that the key was probably in the pocket of a blouse that was now in the washing machine. You would speak to your boss, you said and then things drifted on and I have no idea what the outcome of that conversation was. Or whether I retrieved the key from the washing machine. Or even what the key was for.

So I think I had better ease my conscience and say “Thank you!” for fixing my Netbook.

But as is wont to happen in the middle of the night, one thought drifted to another and a little web of connections began to form, all linked to you getting me started on this blog almost five years ago now, for reasons that are almost lost in the fog of time.  But I think that’s another post.

With thanks,

Guineapigmum

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