It has been a while since I wrote some of these, but inspired (again) by Fraught Mummy and taking my cue from the originator Kat, I think it is time for another round.
Dear Left Hand
Yeah, I know, you are over-worked and tired and cranky and pretty sick of that lazy good-for-nothing Right Hand taking time off.
So am I.
Get over it and think of the muscle tone you are building up.
Dear Ugg boot wearers,
'Boot' is a misnomer. They are indoor slippers for crying out loud. Yes, I hear you, "so comfortable, so warm, so whatever". They are revolting, regardless of who is wearing them. The clue is in the name, get it?
Please refrain from taking them outdoors, and above all, definitely definitely DO NOT wear them with your smart tailored suit. Honestly, all that hard work to climb up the corporate ladder and then you make yourselves look like a tarted up Mrs Mopp.
Disgusted (not from) Tunbridge Wells
p.s. And if you still really insist, do us all a favour and pick your flaming feet up when you walk with the damned boots on.
Dear Mr Man
Just as well I enjoy rugby as standing in a wind chill factor of what felt like minus 10 today to watch you win your county festival shield for over three hours almost gave me serious sense of humour failure.
That and minding Blossom and Widget who were intent on getting about as muddy as you were despite not actually playing.
Love you loads. Brilliant tries.
Your very proud
Dear Walter Salles Jr
What can I say? I just watched 'The Motorcycle Diaries' and loved it. Why it took me so long to get round to seeing this film is another story altogether, but never mind that, I finally did.
Dear Fellow Tube passengers
No, I do not have a prosthetic arm. I know it looks like that when I am wearing my extremely trendy spandex glove and splint during my travels, but it is actually to protect my broken wrist from all your jostling and pushing and shoving and barging for that spare place in the carriage.
So when I wiggle my fingers and you recoil in disgust, just remember to give up your seat to those who are more deserving.
Like the three different pregnant women I stood up for again last week.
Oh, and how did I break my wrist? A severe case of punching, since you ask.
(Never mind it was the ice who was the recipient).