Alice
It is with abject horror that I discover it is nigh oh twelve months since last we corresponded. Now, of course, Auntie's social calendar is at the point of near supernatural excess (meaning no mere mortal - not even Auntie's long suffering companion - could ever hope to manage it efficiently) but this is simply no excuse for Auntie not taking a few minutes out of her daily fabulousness to 'check in' (as you colonials say) on her favourite (well one of her favourites) wayward, adopted souls.
How is one dear heart?
When last we corresponded I seem to recall Alice pontificating about grubby maulings in the back of a yellow cab on route to Hobo-ken from the (decidedly less fashionable) evening venues of the upper East side. Are you still looking for love in all the wrong places dear?
It is LONG overdue that you return to Auntie's Poshtershire estate and allow your slightly more experienced, but decidedly more attractive friend introduce you to this year's 'special set.'
Since the 'wooden top derby' and midnight feasts of Die-nasty Auntie has filtered and 'naturally selected' herself an even more fabulous social landscape.
I know weekend after weekend nursing a room temperature rose in some slightly damp smelling Women's Institute soiree is growing tired. Gather your shillings old bird and jump on the next red eye.
Shredded pork and slightly soggy egg fried rice awaits you lady.
Saturday 20 June 2009
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