10 Forsythia Grove
CORSETTSHIRE ZY6 4GT
April 20 1997
I have received a note from Austen (which I enclose). Is he aware that we have been writing to one another do you think? I have looked up the definition(s) of ‘bunk up’ by the way. The phrase can mean one of two things: a) to lend a helping hand and b) to share a bed. Given the context of the rest of his remarks, Austen’s own meaning seems ambiguous . . . I think, however, that – under the circumstances – the note’s contents may have some bearing on your present state of mind?
We seem to have a window of opportunity here. What – if anything – do you want to do dear?
I also have some sad tidings. Meribel – Pom-Pom’s deaf old cat – has finally died, after some years spent in slow decline. I have lavished much care upon poor Meribel. I have laboured in the giving of twice daily tablets (frequently spat out), endeavoured to withstand the brain-penetrating effects of her thyroid-related screech, and cleared up daily pools of urine on the linoleum. But, over the past two weeks, she became blind and progressively less able to walk or eat.
She rubbed her furry cheek against my fingers, through the cat carrier, as we set off towards the appointment for her execution. And I felt pretty ill about it all I must say. However, it can’t be easy for the veterinary surgeon either – for they practically have to mop the owner off the floor by the time the lethal injection is administered.
I have requested her ashes to be returned to me. Pom-Pom loved her and I must do things properly and well.
Let me know about the other matter would you darling?
Mum (in law)