Wednesday 28 November

No further word from Daisy since our brief reconciliation, despite my ‘casual’ weemails. I am driven half-mad. Just how long does one leave it? Must I always write first? I suppose that particular convention persists, even today. Yes, it is time for that most serious of things – a letter. But what if the letter should be delayed, or if she’s written to me in the meantime, and our correspondence deigns to cross? Do we both then write humourously of such an event, only for our letters to cross again, and us once more miss the opportunity to seize upon the nub of the matter; a nub barely worth seizing should we both be old and grey. Damn this technology! I would prefer her simply to knock – I fear not call on her in the ‘burbs lest she sees my pursuit as unfitting of one who, just two years ago, was playing Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde with her heart. I’m a bloody fool.

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