Thursday, 20 September 2012

The pleasures and the passions . . .

10 Forsythia Grove
Outer Hamlet
My Dear Ralph
I have rather been cogitating on the meaning of my life pet (particularly in the aftermath of a weekend notable only for a distinct absence of the pleasures and the passions).  And I am not sure that there is much meaning left!  Now that I am approaching my middle years, it seems to me that one's friends are rather more inclined to discuss their arthritis than their love affairs!  I can understand this in a way - especially given an over-long contemplation of my own increasing girth in the ceiling mirror - but I still seem to have my eyes focused on the occasional scrumptious posterior walking down the Grove.  And I must admit, dear, my thoughts often do dwell on romps upon the carpet, replete with wine, and one or two bags of peanuts!  Never mind.  I am sure there is some frightful individual - at large on the streets somewhere - who I have yet to meet!
This morning I motored off to the Extinct Mammal Conservation Society with a view to distributing posters advertizing my forthcoming talk on the subject of 'MI6 Memoirs.'  It was most pleasant to see dear Portia and Montie again and I was pleased to accept an offering of fresh runner beans in return for an hour or two's service on their computers.  However, I did notice that I am still temperamentally unsuited to using said devices - particularly when it comes to data insertion on a spreadsheet which has literally one hundred cell headings running along the top of the page - and it might also help if I purchased a pair of elderly person's spectacles for reading with!
I also telephoned the Corsettshire Children's Visiting Service to enquire after acquiring a delinquent to take out on diverse outings from time to time.  I think I must be feeling lonely dear, because I am not altogether sure I would have hit upon this idea if it had proved possible to acquire a companion of commensurate intellect and values to myself!  (Of course, you might say that there are plenty of people about who can hit the bottle and roll around on the carpet - but it is also necessary for said individual to be able to hold a conversation, have an interest in preparing foreign cuisine, and not be permanently attached to a snooker cue.)  Anyway, I spoke to a very nice lady who will be sending me an information pack and was able to hold forth, at length, on the subject of local children's homes.  Oh dear pet.  I am not sure I want to acquire a child who has expert abilities in the hot-wiring of motor cars, the theft of hard drives (oh God, my memoirs) and could be injecting smack and inhaling glue on my very own premises!  And what will I do with my guns?  I know they are locked away in a strong metal cabinet but the acquisition of laser cutting devices, from some internet outlet or other, will not be beyond the ingenuity of some enterprising young hoodlum!  I must admit, I also wondered what to do about declaring my former occupation to the Corsettshire Social Services.  They might well have reservations of their own about the sort of lady who was once an MI6 assassin and still frequently practises on the shooting range over at Inner Hamlet!  I wonder if the children would like to come out there?  We have recently been practising with the Glock range of handguns which might be rather on the heavy side for children, but I might be allocated somebody quite robust.  You never can tell, can you pet?  We will have to wait and see!
I am enjoying our epistolary relationship dear.  I feel positively more cheerful already!  I hope your own activities are flourishing, although perhaps I need slightly less information about the ingestion of street substances and esoteric sexual practices!
Aunt Agatha

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