Sorry it has been so long

Oh Anna, where to start. I have made several attempts to write to you but just got nowhere. The fact is, I have been a bit depressed. I know you don’t like that word and I, too, think it is much over-used, but what else could I call my mental state: Melancholia? (That was the term before someone thought of ‘Depression’) or how about Glum? No? I have tried to get the compilers of ADSM to recognise the diagnosis ‘clinically fed-up’, but have got nowhere. So let’s settle for your ‘slight problem with the brain’ – I like that.

As to the cause, well, it is certainly not because of the threat of Sven and his outsize friend; you can tell him I am prepared to meet them any place, any time, on my own. I don’t need to bring a friend. In any case most of my friends are women – mind you, I think Myra would be more than a match for Winston! I have always got on better with women than I have with men. I have a couple of male friends, but they are more acquaintances than mates.

Come to think about it, I have never really had ‘mates’, the way some other men have. I had school friends of course, and work colleagues (some of whom were friends). And people at university. And when I joined the Air Force, I remember the drill sergeant telling us ‘Don’t have mates – they get you into trouble' But of course I did have friends.

But I have never had ‘mates’ in the sense of: ‘I’ve got a mate who can get you that wholesale…’ ‘My mate’s a plumber, he’ll fix your lavatory…’ ‘Me and my mates are going on a fishing weekend…’ Also I don’t have a ‘local’ (for those outside the UK that is a public house, or a bar) where I am a ‘regular’, and a member of the pub quiz team. Perhaps the two go hand in hand: a local pub, and mates.

I think you are partly right in ascribing my ‘slight brain problem’ to lack of love. But I also feel trapped and powerless. Frustrated in my attempts to achieve my goals. And that is not good. I have not been sleeping very well, and the other night I got up and made myself a cup of tea. I took it and sat in an armchair – and immediately fell asleep. When I woke up the tea was cold.

Anyway, today I visited a therapist. I have been on a waiting list for six months. I will not say any more, except that I am hoping that these sessions will be what I need. I am more positive now.

The roofer came and fixed the roof.

I know you worry about me when you read things like the conviction of the three barmy bombers. But don’t. You are right when you say MI5 will keep the lid on things.

Gwen has been reading a book by Stella Rimington, the former Director-General of MI5. She was the first woman to hold the post and the first Director-General whose name was publicly announced on appointment. I understand that when she retired from MI5 in 1996 she became a non- executive director of Marks & Spencer. (Gwen said, “I bet shoplifters were shitting themselves.” – she can be rather vulgar)
I don’t know who is in charge now but I am sure he has his finger on the pulse of terrorism – and a boot on the scrawny neck of Islamic Militancy.

Yes, I do remember that time in the orchard when there was more than Coxes Pippins on the floor. I thought my wife made a quite unnecessary fuss. But there you are, you see: only child – can’t share.

Write soon

Your George