Dear Joseph,

For such you are now. It's not much better, but at least it isn't Simon, and you didn't precisely assist me in thinking up a name. So Joseph you are, and we'll pretend it isn't after the pretty blonde pointed thing at the Classic FM concert on Wednesday!

I am determined you should not be a pretty blonde pointed thing. You are emphatically not that sort of person at all. And you still need an age, damn you!

Dear Setting,

We're getting somewhere. After 1865, anyway. Very possibly Victorian. Or something.

Dear Ignatia,

You really cannot be called Ignatia, and not for the same reason that Simon couldn't be called Simon and Fred still can't be called Fred. There isn't anything precisely boring about Ignatia, it's just...really.

Dear Actors as A Whole,

Yes, the Arthur Scargill Red Berry Kolchos idea is still off. No, I will not relent. Yes, the liquor cabinet is still locked, hermetically sealed and bricked up. And the brick layer has been thrown away.

Regards,
The author (with gorgeous Christening hair, featuring a sparkly clip)