Look At This

Dear Wayne,

lol lol lol! Do you know about this? Harvey Nichols is making fun of you on postcards! Maybe Ruan Milborrow and Mark Nightingale are school chums of yours.
In my thoughts forever,
Susie

London Life!!

Dear Wayne,

I hope you’re having a really great Easter, maybe catching up with family in Liverpool or spending time with your footie mates or maybe it’s just you and Colleen together in your house. I’ve certainly been enjoying the sunshine, what’s left of it! I don’t really know what I meant by that, we’ve got all summer really. It’s something you’d say in September, when my birthday is. I guess your injury will by better by then, you’ll be able to get out more. I’m thinking about having a picnic on Norwich on my birthday. Maybe.

Do you like clubbing still? Probably you do, old habits die hard, ha ha ha. On Friday I went to an area in London called Vauxhall, which is where a lot of men go to dance and meet each other. I was waiting for some friends at the station when I felt a person very close to me. I turned around to a terrible face, tiny eyes fighting for room to be close as possible to a doorknocker nose lying fat above a mouth broken open into a gaping smile. The mouth managed “Have you got a light” before I could reclaim distance. He sneered and jerked his tuberous head around, I suppose to signify a victory in seduction. His white trainers glowed in the streetlight. Yuck, Wayne, if you’d been there you’d’ve set him straight. But no, he just keeps hanging around, his little eyes on me. I decided to wait in a pub, though the closest one was a few minutes down the road. So I’m walking, it’s very nice, and then doorknob guy jumps out of a side street going “haugh” like he’s dry heaving, though it could be mistaken for communication. Well of course I’m frightened, alone on a dark night in Vauxhall with an escapee licking his chapped lips at me. Thankfully a small Asian man walks past, “excuse me, do you mind if I walk with you? Excuse me…” but he runs away as quick as a greased rabbit, you can imagine it. You would’ve admired the determination I put in my stride to get back to the station with its 24-hour cameras and glaring strip lights, and the heel I spun on at a safe distance to deliver a deft sign language insult. What did he want? Did he know me from school? Had he been a regular at the café I used to work in? Or was he, Wayne, like so many disengaged young men, trying to be my boyfriend? I will not respond gently to such methods of courtship. No, you’ve got to have class, as I know you’ll agree. Like your wedding in Portugal and the bit where you released 200 doves over the church and everyone loved it.

I can tell you’re not just a bottle-of-wine-and-a-DVD kind of man, you go that extra mile. Only metaphorically though because otherwise you’re just like doorface and I know in my heart of hearts that you’re nothing like that.

Lots of love,
Susie

PS did you get that set of photos of me on a beach? I’m just not sure because you didn’t mail back a note in the SAE I enclosed. It was a really cold day that day, lol!

Kind of Annoyed :(

Dear Wayne,

Now you're one person that everyone knows gets mad pretty quick, and all you need is a little time alone and you're fine again. It happens to everyone. It happens to me, Wayne.

Apparently the people at Norwich train station have won awards for the sandwiches they make. This excited me intensely last week when I went to buy a dolphin-friendly tuna mayo on brown from the buffet car on the way to London (seeing a friend, a girl, just to catch up in a well-lit public space). However, what I received was a rather shy meal ensnared in a plastic chamber, shrinking as though it were trying to disappear beneath the ingredients label. I liberated it once I’d returned to my seat and I had to question if a sandwich is okay if it’s damp on its sell-by date. Shockingly, the apex of the bread was nearly foaming with what I hoped to be brine and not a chemical compound formed from withering cucumber and brilliant yellow margarine spread. I was also forced to recall whether or not my tongue had burned quite so overwhelmingly the last time I’d had a sandwich. Understandably, I was nervous about what I was inflicting on myself as the bread clung to the roof of my mouth, dissolving and bitter. Perhaps the people who won the awards have quit their jobs and are living off the prize money.

Also, aren’t people on trains terrible? I’m not much of a hater because I’m probably an awful person too, but Emo boy behind me wanted everyone in the carriage to memorise all the words to the same song so he had to play it over and over and over and. This was, I think, to feel more understood.

When you call important people on mobile phones, do you think about what ringtone they might have? What ringtone do you have, Wayne? Is it Eye of the Tiger polyphonic?

All my thoughts,
Susie

This 'n' That

Dear Wayne,

Did you get the muffins I had delivered to you? I hope so, I iced your name on the top of each one, except the one that said Get Well Soon. I had to use a syringe to make the icing really small and neat. I think you’ll love them. Don’t worry, I’m not one of those people who puts drugs and razors in gifts; those people are sick. The metatarsal is really just the worst place to break your ankle, but I’m sure you don’t look undignified with that cast on because it’s very advanced technology. Still, it means you can make awesome plans for the summer right? I was thinking of going to some little music festivals. I think the small ones are the best ones.

So I’m looking to get some good things on my CV – someone needs a job to get cash! – and I went to this teamwork workshop designed for people who want to be lawyers. It was a very bright hot empty room with a projector. A man in a company polo shirt did some lovely things on PowerPoint and he used his hands a lot when he was talking. I think this was to look emphatic, which was great. And then we were back in remedial class in primary school, there were so many coloured cards and little puzzles and we all had to communicate with each other, being aware of our dominant thinking patterns and how they might parallel with different perspectives. This was useful because the last activity had something to do with a rocket and a force field and lots of string and needing to get the rocket out of the force field with the string without tipping it. Everyone participated. The following people were in my team:
1. short loud Portuguese American woman
2. menacingly quiet Chinese man
3. smug young man with piercings and very short hair
4. smug young spotty man who didn’t like me talking to him
5. shy but well dressed Korean lady with such long hair
We didn’t get the rocket out of the force field. What would you do, Wayne? I had to leave early because I had to meet some people (some girls) but because the workshop was sponsored by Cadbury’s as well as the lawyers I got to take away an eight-square Diary Milk bar.

I learned that my dominating colour is red, which means I am comfortable being a leader. My second dominating colour was green, which means I am creative. Yours would probably be yellow because you think logically. You have to if you want your football strategies to be successful. Colleen’s might be blue because she’s loyal and doesn’t like to cause a fuss. Yellow and blue together are ok, but things can get a bit “samey” after a while.

I hope your metatarsal gets better soon!

Love and thoughts,

Susie

party time!

Dear Wayne,

I hope you’re doing alright today, I heard that you got really upset at the game on the weekend. Just so you know, I think that guy was a total jerk for whatever he did. How do you usually de-stress?

I had a bunch of people over last night. Before you think anything, I did try to call your house to invite you round but someone from a futon store picked up the phone! It was so embarrassing, I’m like hey is Wayne there please? And they go yeah hang on. So I’m practicing how to say hello to you and this guy who’s got a clogged drain for a voice goes “Wayne here,” and I’m like, uh, Wayne? “Yes, this is Wayne Andrews, who’s this?” I said it was just no one and I hung up. What if it’s the futon store in town and they know it was me if I go in? lucky I already have a bed. Anyway, sorry you couldn’t come over. It was really nice.

I have to say I had a little too much to drink (guess who’s a student ha ha?) But here’s the really tragic part. I have a friend – it’s a boy but if you don’t want anything to happen that’s okay. I think you don’t want anything to happen – who’s on my course who thinks you’re so great that he cut your head out of a newspaper and put it on his food cupboard. He lives in London when he’s not on campus and he has black hair and he likes electronic music. So he came over to the party with his other friends and guess what he gave to me? A poster of you out of Foot Maximum! Now, remember, I was really drunk. I stood on the bed to put your poster on my wall next to the calendar of waterskiing Westies (it’s so cute and funny) but then I fell off and banged my leg on my desk. It really hurt. Tragic, I told you.

Oh well. It’s not even that important.

Did you do anything nice for Christmas? Boxing Day sales? I hope you and Colleen aren’t one of those couples who hold hands and walk really slowly through crowded shopping centres looking in all the windows with loads of bags in your free hand. I want to push those people over. You probably have a personal shopper because you wouldn’t get anything done with all the people wanting your autograph.

Ever yours,

Susie

Jobs

Dear Wayne,

First of all, congratulations for being 40th on English football's rich list! You have so much money, even though it's not as much as Michael Owen (who has £40 million). I guess you have to split it with Colleen, though doesn't she have a column in Heat magazine? Maybe that doesn't pay so well. I bet you buy all kinds of things like cars and islands. Do you do offshore banking? I heard interest is really good in Iceland. Maybe not, it's just what I heard. Anyway, don't take my advice, I'm a student, ha ha!

I think you'd really like it in Norwich, Wayne. I went into town to get a job and everyone I spoke to was so nice even though I didn't get a job. I was in a cafe having a croissant and an Italian man who had once given me his number on the street and invited me to a spaghetti party asked me through a smile if I wanted to read the paper he was picking out of the rack. No, I said, did it look like I wanted to read it? He said yes. I laughed loud and unconvincingly. He smiled so much, I think he might be one of those people that smiles all the time even when nothing is funny. Then he sat down right next to me even though I'm sure there were plenty of seats in the room and I could feel him smiling at the brochure I was pretending to read. His jacket was one of those very efficient but distractingly puffy ones with velcro on the wrists and he had great big hands. He was making a big noise of sitting down and then of reading the newspaper which I know he wasn't even reading because the moment I took out the A3 paper map of Norwich I've had since I got here he asked, are you visiting? I said no quick and terse enough so that he would see I wasn't interested in having one of those conversations where you just can't be sure if they are tricking you into going for a drink with them and enduring more conversation. You can be sure I left smartly without saying goodbye, but calling thank you to the people behind the counter. What would you do, Wayne? I'm sure you wouldn't have to do anything because either you'd have loads of bodyguards around you when you ate in a cafe or you would just get the cafe to deliver.

Are you any good at fixing bikes? I took mine to town today and it made such a squeak even though I'd oiled it in the morning. It needs a new basket too; I can put half a dozen sheets of paper in it before it starts lolling around the handles. The brake for the front wheel's stuck too. Well, if you come round it would be great if you can take a look at it and if you brought your own we could take a ride around the graveyard.

Do you have any New Year's resolutions? Keeping the game up, practicing more, maybe eating less food that's bad for you because you're not going to keep your looks forever. Sorry, Wayne, but people that try to ride on their looks are in for a surprise when they get those tell-tale bags under their once sparkling eyes. I've seen it happen. You probably have a while to go as you're only 23.
Anyway, I should get going as I'm meeting a friend for a drink at the union bar. It's a boy but he's just a friend I have here.

Thinking of you,

Susie

not up 2 much

Dear Wayne,

Sorry if I seemed a little quiet yesterday, I was in a really bad mood.

I still think you should come over, even though the tap has somehow fixed itself. Not only could we watch DVDs and comedy on YouTube but we could close our eyes and feel the morning.

You can never tell the weather if the sun's in your room, it heats everything up and makes things shine. It smells of toast and burning things from some kitchen. Our cleaner's voice trots down the hallway, you can hear her singing to a tinny Radio 1 show, Love Shack, U2; easy listening. Everything's quiet on campus till midday, all you can hear is the squealing of birds and the fuzz of the giant air conditioning machine behind the building. Say you opened your eyes and put on something decent and went into the kitchen. The glare on the scrubbed steel is harsh but look south, away from the aggressive shimmering lake to the line of tall pines leaning left, check out the shadows on the lawn. Dogs and joggers, walkers in pairs, kids in coloured plastic coats all dappling the morning.

I hope you play well today, Wayne. Hang on, I know you can. I do feel silly sometimes, writing all these letters. If you ever want to call for a proper chat, my number's 07xxx xxx xxx (removed for privicy because the Internet is full of spies)

x x x xx

Susie