I miss you, sweetheart.
June came around again today.
I heard a knock on the door and was going to ignore it until she started hollering like a latchkey kid through the bloody letterbox.
I know she means well, but she needs to simmer down, love.
No offence, but, she reminds me of your mother and father.
They were the same when we had to stay with them for a while after we were wed. Remember?
We couldn’t do right from wrong, could we?
We were either too noisy or too quiet; we didn’t help enough because we both worked too much and we didn’t earn enough; and we were sloppy because we didn’t iron our damned underpants and socks. It was too much, wasn’t it?
It was the best day of my life when I carried you over our own threshold and shut the door on the whole naggy world!
She certainly doesn’t get it from you, my love, and I hate naggers. Life’s too short for that, isn’t it?
She came over and started bloody hoovering straight away. I told her that she can make a cuppa and that was all. It didn’t make any odds.
I found her upstairs in our wardrobe thumbing through your Sunday dresses, saying that we should give them to charity! I don’t mind giving the odd tenner for the little kiddies, but I don’t see what they’d do with your best gowns, love. Unless they’re trans-what’s-his-name, of course.
She told me, as I shooed her out that she doesn’t think Kevin’s ignoring me. She tried to ring him and his phone’s not responding. I do hope that he’s well. He’s a good lad.
I had a funny stomach ache after tea, love. Probably just wind, eh?
Anyway, my wonderful lady, I’ll love you and leave you.
Say hello to our Alfred and Joan if you see them