Dear time, I think I might have mentioned this before, but where do you go? One minute I seem to have plenty of you and then the next moment there’s very little left. It’s a puzzle.
Dear oldest agapanthus plant, What a fabulous year you have had this year, and I’m very sorry that I didn’t take a picture of you. Having had a bad year least year with only a few flowers, and a previous best performance of about 30 flowers, this year you produced 59. You were wonderful. Your newer, younger, floral compatriots would do well to take a leaf out of your book and up their production – each of them only managed about 5 blooms I think.
Dear conkers, My experiment last autumn of putting a few of you on the window sill in the porch seems to have added weight to the suggestion that you keep spiders away. In the last year I have not seen a single spider there. Recently I read in the newspaper that you contain some kind of oil, the scent of which spiders dislike, which maybe explains why you manage to keep them away. I think I’ll be putting you in a few other places in the house now.
Dear British Airways, I’m sorry to say that your in flight meals are possibly the worst I have ever tasted.
Dear unicorns, I feel very sorry for you these days. I’m not sure when you became associated with rainbow manes, rainbow tails and rainbow horns instead of white? You also seem to have been turned into some kind of cute cartoon creature instead of the magnificent silvery white beast representing Scotland in the Royal Arms of the United Kingdom. If I were you, I’d be creating a bit of a fuss.