Last time I posted a letter from Winsome to her friend, Dom back in the UK. Here is his first one to her, to give a flavour of their relationship. The letters were a way of keeping the reader up to date with both of their lives when they were apart, but I’ve always thought there’s something romantic about writing actual letters; real letters on paper written with a pen. I don’t do it nearly enough in my life, so I enjoyed letting Winsome and Dom deepen their relationship this way. Here it is…
I got your letter today. It only took a week – much quicker than I thought it would be.
I’m sorry to hear that your father isn’t well. Do you think that now you are home, he’ll improve? And your mother? You always made me feel better when you were around, so I imagine you have that effect on them too.
I try very hard to imagine you in Uganda, but it isn’t easy. I am looking at the photo you left for me – the one of you and your family outside the house the day Moses left for University. It conjures the languid feeling of heat and flies, of long hot days and longer hotter nights, punctuated by the buzz of a thousand mosquitoes intent on drinking everyone dry.! I look at you – what were you then – 13? and I think of the woman you have become, of all that you’ve been through, and I find myself wishing that I could put the clock back and stop it all from happening. But then, I would never have met you, and that would be my loss.
My god – what’s happening to me? This letter writing business is making me all maudlin. I promised myself that my letters would be upbeat and funny, full of little anecdotes to keep you amused, perhaps an antidote to what’s going on for you over there.
So… Mum is well but missing you. She loved having you staying with her. I think she thrives on company and finds being on her own lonely. She’s talking about getting a dog! Not much of a replacement for you, but better than nothing, or so she says. I took her out to dinner last night. We went to that little Indian on the High street, you know, the one where they say that the korma is mild, and it takes the back of your throat off. One day if I’m feeling suicidal, I’ll try the vindaloo!
Work’s OK. My boss actually praised me the other day for coming up with the design that won the tender for the hotel in Devon. As if Torquay needs any more hotels. Still, it’s work for us, and it’ll mean trips to Devon. In the school holidays I might take Mum with me if she wants to come for a breath of sea air.
So, that’s about it for now. I need to improve my letter writing skills; I have veered from melancholy to inane in this one. I was going to apologise for it not being very long, but I suspect that you’re quite glad you don’t have to read more.
I must say, though, that I miss you and our long chats. London seems rather boring these days, without you here. Please write again soon.
So, that was Dom’s first letter. Interested to read more?