15th August 1797

My Dearest
The days have been long and hard since my last letter but finally the end is in sight, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel - or is that the train coming ?

You will no doubt be relieved to hear that the boat has withstood all that our Lord can throw at it, however, the same cannot be said of Marmaduke.

Yes, when we parted with such sorrow on that wind swept Thursday lunchtime, just after our splendid feast of oxen haunch and yaks whey with that delightful blue bird gizzard tureen, you gorging yourself on pumpkin pips and gerbil knees swigging beetroot and olive wine between mouthfuls, what a feast we had. And Pauline, the inn keepers wife, swapping blows with Marmaduke as they fought over the last piece of humming bird tongue, how we laughed at their gracelessness, alas, I think you would agree, all over so, and too, soon.

Remember how strong and happy Marmy and I looked, OK you’d have to look at us with one eye shut the other narrowed to a slit and of course the administration of a stocking over the head with your hat pulled gently over both eyes as you incline your head to reflect the meridian splendour of the sun so that the light would obscure your sight mostly but not completely, we looked ready for what was our first excursion up the territories of the river Thames.

The banks of Marlow looked so serene then, I remember and you, your smile of warmth and hope, just revealing that last bit of spinach you hadn’t yet dislodged from your front incisor even after all that thrashing about with your tongue that you displayed, secretly you thought, but as complete fascination to me as I starred transfixed as we walked those last few yards to the boat, In fact I will never forget your tongue or the fabulous work it did on those nights when we would emerge hot and nearly satisfied from the carpark never sure if our video would ever make it on to Beadles About or CrimeWatch...

anon.