The letter box bangs and I go to and retrieve whatever has come.

A nice little pile on the floor as I collect them into a heap and take them into the living room.

I spread them out, 2 brown ones, 3 white ones, one from the Readers Digest and one hand written!

Intrigued I pick the hand written one up and look at it, wondering where it was from I look at the postmark, no clue there.

Turning it over looking for other clues but there were none.

What to do, I don’t get letters, well not hand written ones.

I look at the writing, yes it’s my name and my address, but who’s it from?

I place it on the table face up, look at it more and think, but no clues come.

So I open the brown ones, circulars, brown ones used to be reserved for bills, but no even junk comes in them, so into the paper recycle bin it goes. I wonder who has written to me?

3 white ones, they shouldn’t be bills, but again no, and looking at the postmark it says gas, electric and insurance. I open them and they all say I owe more money, but don’t need to do anything, as they will just increase the direct debit! Don’t know what to think about that, after all it is my money!

I wonder what is in that letter, I still can’t think who will be writing to me!

Nervously I finger the envelope sides and decide to make a cup of tea.

Coming back into the living room the letter is still there, and it stays there whilst I drink my tea.

I’m getting myself into a right ‘tither’ now.

Who would write to me? I can’t remember the last time I had a letter, I wonder who it’s from.

Surely it can’t be for me, so I re-read the name and address, and sigh as I can plainly see it is for me.

So I just tear a corner, just to peek inside, but I couldn’t see anything, I need to go to the loo!

I’ll ring my son, he’ll sort it out, but he will also whinge about coming over for something like this and I really don’t want any hassle.

I’ll ring my daughter, she’ll understand.

So I ring her, I ask about the children, how she is, how her other half is but I couldn’t for shame ask her to open my letter, so I didn’t.

So it’s still there, on the table looking at me, with its edge torn and me all in a ‘tither’.

I’ll have a spot of lunch, I’ll feel better then, I’m sure I’ll be able to open it after that no problem!

Nice sandwich boiled ham with a bit of lettuce and tomato, and a cup of tea.

Still feeling peckish so I had a biscuit.

That letter was still there, hadn’t moved at all.

A knock on the door, relieved at not having to open it yet I go and see who’s come.

The Vicar, it’s always nice to see the Vicar, he doesn’t talk silly or try to make me look daft. I ask him to come in, and does he want a cup of tea? They always do, so I get some, and some of those nice new biscuits, placing them on a tray I take them into the living room.

So I as I pour and say help yourself to some biscuits, I think maybe he will open the letter for me?

But he jumps in and says, ‘I have something I need to ask you’, so smiling to myself I think isn’t it nice when someone asks you to help them. He opens his case, it’s a leather one we all chipped in to buy him for his birthday last year, and he pulls out a pamphlet. It was advertising the spring fayre at the school, he asked if I would help on one of the stalls? They had had a meeting at the school the day before yesterday and everyone thought you would help, so of course I said that I would love to!

That’s really good, there will be a letter coming explaining about it all, I just thought I would talk to you first.

I wonder if that is what the letter is all about? I can’t ask him now if he would open it can I!

So he finishes off my biscuits and drinks his tea, we talk about the fayre and what they are hoping to do, all the time I wishing he would hurry up so I could open that letter!

30 minutes, that’s how long it took to drink a cup of tea! I was getting a little agitated, but kept it all in as he packed his case and said goodbye. I followed him to the door and he started to tell me about the Sunday sermon, I smiled and said that I really needed to go to the loo, (is it a sin to lie to a Vicar?)

so here I am back in my living room, with the letter in my hand and the telephone rings, its my daughter. I really don’t know who she takes after, 20 minutes on that telephone, I bet her bill is enormous!

So I sit down, again, and pick up the letter, I tear open the top and withdraw the paper, it was from the school, asking if I would help with there Fayre, and the Vicar would be coming to talk to me a little bit more about it!

But I already knew that, I sat deflated, if only I had opened it this morning!