Spanish Cinderella

Parque Bonaval

2nd April 2009

Sweet thing,

I cannot express in harsh enough terms the boiling anger I feel towards modern technology, especially that of facebook at this moment in time. This is third time I have sat down to reply to this message, and am finding it rather difficult to type as my fingers are crossed so hard that the incidents which previously deleted my meticulously written reposts will not be reoccurring. However, due to incidents in the past day it is quite fortunate that I am able to tell you the resolution of a story that was without end the last time I wrote this...

More of that later; the anxiety with which I am waiting to hear the outcome of the pub quiz has done nothing but become more intense: The longer I am without communication with your darling self, the more I am dying to know the outcome of your rendezvous with your heart's bane. I fully empathise with your predicament darling girl, knowing in intimate detail the feelings you harbour for your past (and present) love and the history behind the tale. As we have said many a time, it is impossible to fall out of love with someone unless there exists a concrete reason to believe it can never work. I hope your copy of Byron's work includes the poem entitled 'they say that hope is happiness', as though slightly miserable the lines have done a great deal to put into perspective the feelings inspired by such situations. Given that you now have the opportunity to test the water it is now down to you to decide; should you allow yourself to run with the butterflies and expose yourself to more hurt, or withdraw and never know if that hope which was your happiness could in fact have been something more? I cannot offer more than a friendly ear to your woes, knowing that the decision rests with you alone and that whatever my advice may be I should not influence your choice... Which still leaves me insatiably curious as to the current situation and your feelings on this at the moment, do satisfy my desires and fill me in on any intimate details...

Now for the conclusion to a story which I feel I have already told you, as I have written before many a time but never concluded in sending. I told you about my prince, a sweet boy with whom for several weeks I was perfectly happily entertained, and whose presence eased the pain of my first rendezvous with the bane of my life. Things were going smoothly before my trip to the south this week, where I was surrounded by the most beautiful set of boys I think I have ever had the pleasure of sharing a room with. The continual presence of these statuesque specimens of manhood rather put into persepective my relationship with the Prince, which though barely a relationship could not be termed as less, and combined with the content of the messages I received, any butterflies which might have lingered were eradicated. Anyway, absorbed with these thoughts we returned to Madrid at the end of the camp, where we proceeded to get rather on the worse side of inebriated. Jon had gone to his friend Alice's for dinner, and I was to meet up with the boys for tapas, after which we would all rendezvous and go to a discoteca together. On arrival at the metro station however, we were subject to numerous cancellations, and I need not be explicit in the outcome of a night which consisted of me, my boss and two bottles of rather cheap rum.

Anyway, yesterday I saw the Prince for the first time, neglecting the disastrous night on Saturday, after Jon and I returned from camp, consumed copious amounts of multitudinous harmful substances and which resulted in the loss of my purse and one of my shoes, when my conversation was less that sensible. It is my least favourite of situations, but we were able to resolve quite amicably the fact that he was unable to have a casual relationship and that it was 'not the right situation' for anything more serious.

I am missing you interminable darling girl, and can only apologise for the lateness of my reply, and though will completely understand any delay of my share of information, am on tenterhooks waiting for it.

All my love,
Hannah xxx

Rooftops

A Love Hangover

22nd March

To a kindred soul,


I write to you nursing what can only be described as a broken heart. I am afraid to say that the combination of residual feelings and inebriation got the better of me last night (I was temporarily off the wagon but more on that later) and I enjoyed a late night tryst with my beloved. We talked at length before and ever the aforementioned event and are in agreement that our passionate encounter was ill advised. However, my confessions of love were reciprocated by the object of my affection so the aching in my chest comes from regret at the situation in which I find myself, not ay ill treatment at the hands of my beloved. My pride was whisked away by a stream of vodka which had an effect similar to, I would imagine, extra strength truth serum; during a lengthy embrace with my love I confessed that I could in fact hold him "for the rest of my life" which, fortunately did not send him running for the hills but did waive any opportunity to pass the evenings events off as a drunken fumble.

I am burdened with an inescapable pain in my chest and am permanently hovvering on the brink of tears. In my most fanciful momemnts I am tempted to suggest a reunion; an idea concieved more as an oppurtunity to simply allow our passion to be confronted and then to burn out than from any certainty that a relationship between us could actually work out. However, my heart may subject to fancy but my head i rooted firmly within the reality of the situation which is that (apologies to Emily Bronte) I have broken my own heart, I knew the consequences of my actions and instead of heeding my own doubts and those of all those whose advice I had previously sought on the situation I parted freely with reason and allowed myself to be overtaken by passion.

I have to see him again tonight as we are to attend the pub quiz; as is the Sunday night tradition for "The Daves", and pretend that all is as it was before. I fear that I shall be overcome with emotion upon sight of him and spend the entire night struggling not to weep, indeed I weep as I recount this to you. I thought finally getting what I had dreamed of for months would at last make me happy, it is true that in those moments with my love I was less unhappy than I was before but it would appear that the trade-off was the pit of self pity and heartbreak in which I am now installed. It would appear that no measure of rationality is any match for the feelings which **** and I harbour for one another, I am resigned to the fact that (Emily is probably spinning in her grave at this point) my love for him is eternal, like the rocks beneath.

Last night saw me consume alcohol for the first time in two weeks; I have decided to overlook this indiscretion as heart is already so full of regret, but I am once again tee - total today, last night having served as proof that nothing good comes from the Chloe/vodka/diet coke cocktail.I am saddened to report that it has come to my attention that my father has begun smoking again after three years free of the evil weed. I worryfor his health Hannah as he is not getting any younger and I could not bear to lose him, it would appear that the stress from his work life has caused him to seek solace in B&H and although he is a man after my own heart it does break my heart that he now feels the need to smoke after previously, it would appear, having conquered his addiction.

I am sorry that my latest message has not been more cheerful dear friend and I sincerely hope that your day has not been darkened upon reading it.

Please tell me about your latest suitor in excruciating detail - it heartens my to know that we are not both completely unlucky in love.I was also thrilled to hear of your tan! My attempts to emulate what is no doubt the very fetching hue which you are now sporting has left several pounds (£s - if only...) lighter, unflatteringly streaked and with the faint aroma of digestives.

I shall leave you at this point darling girl as it would do no good to regale you with my woes for any longer, moreover I am under obligation to look nothing short of perfect at the pub quiz, for obvious reasons, and will need all of the next 45 minutes to attend to my appearance.

Love always,
Chloe.xxxxxxx

A Drowned Flamingo, and other such tales.

17th March 2009

Darling girl;

I was intending to reply to that message as a matter of urgency, and had ready composed the following response ready to send it; I feel you are in need of comfort and berate the fact I cannot offer it in person. Yesterday, in parallel, I happened to be suffering from rather a severe case of brain damage. Although not in the worst of states Saturday night, judged by the fact that it did not end in tears, after a successive run of late nights I was unable to gather the energy to leave my bed to voyage to the internet cafe where I would have been able to write in peace...

But, sweet thing, I am here now to offer you the support you need. From previous conversations I am aware of the intensity of your feelings towards this boy, and from this I know that butterflies are indeed present therein. However, though my habitual advice is in favour of the pursuit of our winged friends, when it comes to past loves, this must be taken with a pinch of salt. Though butterflies are there to be followed, they can lead to hurt, and when we aware that hurt has occured from such a lover anteriorly then it always pays to be wary. However, the question you must put to yourself, and as I can see you already have; is how to know if his advances are made in seriousness? I simply have no answer to this. I can see that if I were him I would be utterly enamoured with your beautiful self, but it needs to be said in soberness for you to believe it fully. Is there any opportunity to meet with him in the light of day?? In the mean time, do keep me updated on the happening with the literary population of Manchester, I am waiting on Spanish tenterhooks for the discovery of your husband. Fill me in on the occurences with other boys at the same time, s'il te plait...

As for my romantic dramas; I am happy to say I am rather enamoured at this present moment, and have spent two rather rampant drunken evenings, and one more sober, delightful evening with he whom we shall now refer to as 'the prince': There may well be butterflies in Santiago town...


We spent the day at the beach today, and I was witness to the funniest incident this side of the Poruguese border. Whilst playing on the rocks, which were breaker to rather a few freak waves, Jon ventured out a little further to a tall rock which he presumed would be safe from the icy droplets scattered by the impact. On finding, however that this was not the case, and not wanting a drenching, as though the temperature was in the twenties the water was still icelandic, he attempted to return to our safer post. This not being possible, he floudered helplessly on one leg, doing a rather hilarious impression of an instable flamingo. The hilarity increased after the flamingo bore the brunt of the largest freak wave yet, and was engulfed. He nearly suffocated from shock; I nearly suffocated from guffaws. And they say laughter is internal jogging so that burnt off the kebab buffet for the day (genii, these spaniards...)

I am rather proud of my developing tan, and display my radiant watch mark at all possible occasions. I miss you, light of my life, and hope that your dilemma is panning out to your happiness, do keep me on the informed side of life.

Besos and huge love,
Hannah xxx

Love's Inhibitions Lost

14th March 2009

Hannah, the ray of light shining through the otherwise dismal fog of Manchester life,

It is with a heavy heart that I inform you that I was unable to make the aforementioned magazine launch due to an engagement with employment that I unfortunately was unable to avoid having chosen to work last Monday and Tuesday in lieu of Saturday, enabling me to attend the birthday celebrations of my dear friend Hudson. I reflect upon this missed opportunity with considerable regret as I almost certainly missed out on making the acquaintance of my future husband, however, I am heartened by memories of Saturday night and by the consideration that my meeting Prince Charming has simply been deferred, not aborted.

Saturday was an evening of debauchery of the sort only possible in Sheffield among ones childhood acquaintances. My copious wine consumption was facillitated not only by personal nature but also by the presence of the one who had previously incited my internal butterflies. I am weak Hannah. I am powerless to maintain platonic feelings of friendship towards him and Saturday was not the occasion for any alteration to be made to this unfortunate situation. Fearing my enduring feelings of love would be left unreciprocated I sought to avoid conversing with the object of my affections for as long as possible but, alas, he sought me out before the first sip of chardonnay had passed my lips. The night then passed as nights often do; clouded in drunken haze and with great gaps where memory fails. However, the recollection I do have is of my love comforting me during my regular drunken emotional outburst, and putting his arm around me at the bar.

The advice I recieved from my female companions upon relating my situation was to sever all contact with him. My mistake, it would appear, was not refuting this advice but merely informing the dear man that I was to take it. He made a very convincing case against my avoidance of him and asked me to see him in secret, thus keeping my friends happy. This was not before he had confessed his love for me, twice. Having put the night down to the effect of inebriation and the joy at a reunion with my estranged ex, I chose to ignore any romantic disclosures on his part. However, the whole episode was reawoken on Wednesday night at around 2am when I recieved a phonecall from none other than the object of my misguided affections who appeared to be under the influence of alcohol once again. We conversed for over an hour.

What does it all mean Hannah? Am I to believe that I have an admirer in **** and that he still harbours feelings of love towards me, as I am somewhat convinced I do towards him? Or am I to believe that the combination of alcohol and boredom caused him to project his frustrations on to the nearest available target? He is, of course, completely aware of my lingering feelings for him.It is, upon consideration of the previous weekends debauchery, as well as my continuing quest for a smaller waistline that I have decided to give up alcohol for the forseeable future.

So far I have been sucessful in my endeavor although I fear I have a long 20 weeks ahead of me.I would greatly appreciate your input on what is proving to be a great preoocupation for me as well as your support for the monumental task I have in front of me! Please regale me with details of your own life and loves, I hope they are not as rich with drama as mine!

It is impossible to communicate within the confines of an international email the immense longing I have for an evening of Gavin and Stacey and Chinese dining however, I hope you will take the time to imagine it.

Love always,
Chloe.xxxx

Greek Gods in Rainstorms

Drizzle.

5th March 2009

Chloe, darling ray of sunshine through the rain of Santiago;

I am pleased to be able to respond to your delightful letter immediately, although less pleased with the content, it has to be said. I shan't beat around the bush, and I am of the opinion that although attending regular fitness classes is a respectable way to spend the time, perhaps not so intellectual expanding as I would have wished, I refute wholeheartedly you assumption that to lose weight is a necessary action. I fully understand, being in much the same position as yourself vis a vis a slimmer 16 year old self, the envy one may feel towards the past, but being an aficionado of your beautiful self, I refuse to believe that you need to alter it in anyway so as to attract a mate.

I am also filled with longing to be present at your inaugration to the literary world of Manchester, and assign you the task of headhunting any prospective males to fill the spots of intellectual companions in the forthcoming year. With so many opportunities afoot, both that of the bookish population of our beloved city, and with the much lauded nights out, it is highly likely that your status on the book of face will be changing far more rapidly than mine. I have had some textual communication with my galician interest, but although we decided that we would arrange a rendezvous this week, it appears that he is unwilling, or this is the message I am choosing to receive from his lack of further communication. It is thus that I am pinning all my hopes on your new workmates, or on my dashing analysis teacher, a true intellectual of herculean proportions, with tanned, rugged skin, and a piercing galician stare. This being unlikely to result in anything, my apparent inability to speak spanish in the face of such a god proving to thwart my efforts a little; I am unlikely to persuade him of my prowess being powerless to tell him my name...

I am pleased to tell you that on Tuesday night I finally succeeded in my mission to complete an outing without the inevitable dissolution into tears. I may have been a picture of drunkeness, the pouring rain doing little to improve my dishevelled looks, but remained dry eyed the entire night. I have yet to bump into the bane of my life, but am feeling sufficiently buoyed by the growing circle of friends we are accumulating here (many mixed nationalities, making spanish the language of choice, hence why they are still named friends, they are unable to understand any abuse I accidently hurl...) to not mind as drastically his presence in the city.

I await with anticipation an account of your literary evening, and send all the love it is possible to include in a trans-national email.

Love always,
Hannah xxx

The nearby monastery, in a rare burst of sunshine

The Weighting Game

4th March 2009

To a dear and sorely missed companion,

It is a truth universally acknowledged that any single girl in possession of a beer belly must be in want of a gym membership. It is with this in mind that I have taken up membership at Withington Leisure centre and now endeavor to attend four fitness classes per week. It would appear, dear Hannah, that exercise is my new hobby! I have found a kindred spirit in Flora and anticipate that our tandem excursions to the gymnasium are to become a regular fixture with my ultimate goal being to recapture the physique that I maintained, but did not appreciate, at the age of sixteen.

I feel that sometimes the butterflies need a little extra help; the irony here being that I anticipate the arrival of butterflies being facillitated much more swiftly if I strive to have them aim for a (much) smaller target.

I have to inform you of the social engagement I am due to attend on Sunday evening; the English department is giving a launch party for its new student lead magazine which carries the unfortunate moniker of "Unsung" but which I, refusing to judge a magazine by its cover, would very much like to contribute to. The event is to include appearances by many local writers and poets as well as those affiliated with the university who are all billed to give short readings of their work. As you can imagine I find all of this rather exciting, not least because the event is being held at the Thirsty Scholar and thus presents me with the opportunity to enjoy a glass of wine among intellectuals, but also because any remotley attractive man to be found at such an event may well fit our profile of the perfect partner! I do wish you could accompany me, I did feel a certain sadness upon reading the invitation to "bring your friends" contained within the email notifying me of the event as I realised I had the perfect friend for the job but she is otherwise occupied overseas!

Speaking of which, I am very curious about the new male acquaintance whom you mentioned in your last message; have had the pleasure of his company since your initial meeting? Am I to sacrifice you to the ranks of my attatched friends? Am I to expect an alteration in your Facebook status?! My love life is woefully lacking so I would embrace any opportunity to date vicariously through you!

I feel I should tell you how enamoured I am with our fledgling letter writing tradition, I must compliment you on your writing ability and express how I feel we both have found our calling with this recreational pursuit!

It is on this note that I shall leave you. I anticipate news of your activities with baited breath,

Yours adoringly,
Chloe.xxxxxxxxxx

The Fast and the Over-Fiesta-d

27th February

Chloe dearest,

I am currently recovering from yet another curtain of doom that has descended after last night, through which the beautiful sunshine does nothing to lift my spirits and which adds a shade of grey to all aspects of life. Jon, however, appears to be in a worse state than I; even the perusal of Gavin and Stacey, which made the distance between the two of us feel far greater than ever before, sent him to bed in despair.

Last night, dear one, was by far the most inebriated of the soirées so far, and though I went home (in tears, naturally) before the night blossomed to it's full, at a tame half past four in the morning, I am rather thankful as my state, though unpleasant, is far more bearable than that which my delightful companions are saddled with this fair afternoon.

And so, we reach the end of our second week here.

Time is racing by with the speed of a fox with the devil on it's tail, which both pleases and saddens me. I am already bursting with excitement at the prospect of next year and our beautiful abode, yet enjoying myself so throroughly that I loathe to think that by the start of next week March will be well and truly upon us.

I have managed to survive another week without a sighting of the bane of my life; and though I relish this, I do long for the moment when I can see him, death stare him, turn on a carefully polished heel and prance away. I have, in fact, a new love interest, by the name of José. We encountered each other on Monday, when I, dressed as a french woman with a pilfered cowboy hat on my tearstained head, was wandering through the bitterly cold streets of the old town, and he, in full braveheart regalia, came to my rescue. I was supposed to meet him tonight for a drink, but our rendezvous has been postponed until the following week, which gives me plenty of time to invent some witty spanish chat up lines...

Anticipating your reply with butterflies,
Hannah xxx

The Lesser Spotted Male

25th February 2009

Dear Hannah,

I can find no better way in which to employ myself while awaiting my delivery of provisions from Tesco Online than to fill you in on every aspect of Manchester life, as you wish. I find myself considerably more positive of mind since the last epistolary installment; as among other things I have realised what an ally I have in Pete; he is in possession of qualities which far surpass one's expectations of the 20 year old male, indeed Pete is kind, wise and understanding and has proven to be invaluable as both friend and confidante.

In reference to your last message, it does not suprise me at all that you are experiencing such emotional turmoil at the prospect of a social reunion with 'the bane of your life', I am sure he feels the same, to not do so would be to exhibit an absence of shame or conscience, it may appear from your side my dear that you are the sole victim of the situation, I would wager that this is definitly not the case. However, as I am always quick to remind you, butterflies do not occur in duplicitous menage a trois situations, and although it may cause you considerable heartache at the moment, you are destined for better. Just as your tattoo serves as a permanent commemoration of your objective to find true love for yourself then so must your actions. I know you will make the right choices where he is concerned, just know, should you find yourself encountering any difficulties you will find a sympathetic, experienced and non judgemental confidante in me.

It pains me to do so but I must leave you here dear friend as Helen's return from her exam is becoming evermore imminent, whereupon I am required to take part in a celebratory afternoon/ evening of anarchy and inebriation. Also, I am burning the chicken for my caesar salad.

Alys informs me that she intends upon the pleasure of your company for her birthday celebrations in the summer! Will you be able to make it? There is, I think, the prospect of shared train journeys if we were to both go, which I think should serve as an incentive in itself!

Anyway, I look forward to hearing more of your lifes triumphs and tribulations and miss you terribly.

Much love,

Chloe.xxxxxxxxx

Gothic Spires and Land Mines

The gothic cathedral, seen from the Alameda Park

23rd February 2009

To my lucious specimen of womanhood;

I am pleased to relate to you the commodity of the apartment in which we are installed. We have running water, acres of storage for the piteous 15 kilos each we were allocated for the flight over, which does absolutely nothing to fill the space, and a balcony overlooking a typically spanish scene. The window in my divinely pink room (further girlified by my stuffed rabbit and some beautiful rosy sheets purchased from the local supermercado) looks out over the cathedral, the most wonderfully gothic creation, encrusted with moss, which creates a beautiful silouhette against the sunset, often cooincided with my awakening.

I am rather ashamed about the amount of social gatherings I have attended since our arrival here; last night was the first which was spent in our delightful abode, and was filled with scrabble and happy families. My body has so adjusted itself to the new debaucherous regime that it struggles in sleeping before the witching hour, and awakening before noon. We have made some lovely friends, italians mainly, and the boys have gone to a nearby city tonight for a carnival with some irish acquaintances. I took the opportunity to save money and my poor little brain, which unlike my body is as yet unaccustomed to the new regime. I intend to spend the day indulging my feminine side, and typical to our miserable fate of being a woman, epilating, moisturising and rejuvenating my sunblushed skin, as well as having the necessary headspace to write to my kindred spirit across the seas.

I cannot say a bad word about my darling housemates, I adore every bone in their little bodies, but there are times when one misses female company. It is difficult to describe the jumble of emotions that is my romantic mind at the moment in english, so to do so in spanish would certainly lose the complicated train of thought, and though I'm sure they would be sympathetic, I am loathe to reveal my badly afflicted heart to the boys who may understand the thread of the conversation. I received an email on the day of my arrival informing me that the bane of my life would be out of the country until yesterday. In the same email, he informed me that he was now 'numb'. I am not sure as to the sense of the phrase, but suffice to say that I am far from numb. In fact, my heart is so tender that it flinches at the slightest mention of his name. This is worse today, knowing that he is once again in the same city, I am unable to think of anything but him. I have run over the sitaution a million times in my head; know exactly what I want to say to him, and how I shall behave. However, this is slightly marred by the strong barrier of emotion that bars my brain from my head. I know I shall probably burst into tears. I hate him, truly I do, but I also know that I'm still slightly in love with him and that to converse normally would tear me apart. I want him to want me, so that I can turn him down, and hurt him as badly as he hurt me, but the thought that he doesn't is enough to bring a tear to my eye.

Anyway darling, enough of my rant, feel free to ignore the majority of the ramble, there is no need to absorb any of it, I was simply in need of expressing my rather confused emotions...

I so desperately wish you were able to come and live with me here. In place of my actual company we shall have to be happy with respective rants about the banes of our lives!

Do keep me filled in on every aspect of Manchester life; I miss you continuously and am only comforted by the fact that you are grafting hard in order to facilitate our reunion.

All the love it is possible to send,
Hannah xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Our spanish (and almost third world) view

Of Morals and Men

20th February 2009

Dearest Friend,

I apologise for the tardiness of my reply, I have little in the way of an excuse, except for the ones previously offered, namely the two shifts I find myself working this week and the social engagements I have been required to attend.

How do you find youre new residence on the continent? Do you find the climate agreeable? And what of your cohabitators? Do you find yourself regularly engaged socially? One hopes that you are making the most of the oportunity to engage with a new set of prospective suitors?! For butterflies, my dear must be sought out lest they go unnoticed, or worse, are noticed by another, Im sure we are both aware of the fact that should a gentlemans advances be accepted by another, above yourself, said gentleman can only hope to find this alternative woman wanting on all accounts by comparison. You are worthy of the greatest of matches dear Hannah, that should not be forgotten.

As for my own social exploits, I am loathe to relate to you that I have, in fact had no evenings out since our last meeting; I find myself ensconced in my chambers, occupied only by my reading and, of course, "Les Freres Scott".

Alas, dear Hannah, I must leave my musings here as I am due to start work in exactly 60 minutes and therefore find myself pressed by such concerns as which liquid based stimulant to employ in my quest to stay awake all night and which ready meal I should choose to sustain me during my shift; I am almost positive that the answers to my current dilemmas are black coffee and lasagne but one can never be too sure. Also I find myself neglecting dear Mama who desires to converse with me in the next room.

I close by reminding you that I both love and miss you with equal, immeasurably vast amount and I eagerly await your reply which will hopefully contain many interesting anecdotes of your new life in Spain!

Yours always,Chloe.xxxxx

From a Glacial Wilderness

The northern snow

10th February 2009

Darling one,

I am afraid that an unforseen visit to my Grandma in the wilds of Norfolk has prevented my returning to Manchester on schedule, and though my home town was full of the childish delights of untrod snow and glaciated puddles, the inclement conditions here stretch to meagre mounds of slush and an obscene amount of mud. It is therefore providing no comfort to my melancholy soul, which finds itself in a similar position to that of your own. Not only do I find myself in a similar position about the opposite sex (more of which to follow) but your tristesse is reflected in the that which I am suffering due to my grandma's steady decline to the grave, which has advanced greatly since I last saw her. She is unable to tell me which of her five offspring I am daughter to, and has barely the strength to sit up in bed. This being said, I think she is happy with the life she is leading, her carer is a kindly soul who has allowed her to stay in the home she shared with her husband and children, and panders to her every whim, including the forbidden glass of beer of an afternoon and a sneaky cigarette in the aftermath. She truly is a woman after my own heart.

So it is for this rather depressing but necessary visit that I am deprived of your glowing company, which would surely shed a light on the darkness of life as it stands today. I am unable even to hear your voice, as novelties such as mobile phones are a rarity in these primitive parts, and thus t-mobile have not stretched their signal far enough to me to reach it. Happisburgh, the hamlet which currently acts as host to your humble correspondent is a picturesque little place, and of the antique nature that from my rather unmade up and slightly swollen (I have a rather vexing tooth abcess which has caused a rather unsightly bulge to the left of my nose) face every inhabitant is able to recognise me from my likeness to my mother. On walking to the cliffs I can gain enough signal to send and receive messages, so shall endeavour to contact you on my daily promenade along the beach with the hound tomorrow.

It does sadden me to find my sweet girl in such a grey state of mind, yet in rather a morbid way gives me a little hope that there are others suffering similarly as valentines day approaches. I sympathise entirely; only this morning, in a pensive state reflective of that demonstrated in your message I was considering abandoning all hopes of finding butterflies to follow, and resigning myself to a relationship based on companionship. I was so convinced of my unability to primarily find a subject capable of inducing the delightful sensation of whipped up papilons in my windpipe, and secondly to convince said subject to feel vaguely the same towards myself, that I truly considered it.

I feel that today has been a veritable rollercoaster of emotions. In one's own company, as we have both found ourselves, it all too easy to peak and trough in romantic convictions. You and I have both experienced requited love, and throughout the day the memory of such a perfect state of butterflies has seemed surreal and utterly devastating. In the times when I convinced myself, however, that it truly had existed, it meandered between depression that it no longer is, was and shall not be, and a light hope that it can exist, and knowing that perhaps will happen again.

It is as we said, my lovely Chloe, we are in need of a more mature gentleman to appreciate the complexity of our romantic, literary souls. We will, and shall, find someone who can respect our conversations varying from Byron to the economy, from Austen to immigration, and from Gavin and Stacey to Vogue. It is a matter of waiting. I for one am certain of the fact that we shall not encounter such intellectuals on the debaucherous evenings we tend to frequent, and am stuck wondering if it will have to be in my professional life that I meet the man of my dreams. I feel that I am over childish promiscuity, and yet, though I may have been early, not ready to settle for anyone who does not meet my meticulous standards. Two years hence, however, seems an intolerably large period of time to be without affection.

Ah! The trials and tribulations of the single twenty-one year old! What are we to do?I am certain, however, that the butterflies are out there. Until then, I hope you are still willing to fulfill the post of my valentine? As we are in such similar states of mind I feel we complement each other especially well this year.Do reply with haste, hopefully consenting to my request and detailing any raucous behaviour last night, or any other drama I may have missed.

Love and adoration,
Hannah xxx

Possibly the only place to have signal in the whole of Norfolk...

Roses are red, and vodka, underrated.

10th February 2009

Dearest Hannah,

I find myself confined to my bed suffering terribly as a result of an overindulgence in vodka last night and can find no better way to pass the time while awaiting the restoration of my faculties than to commit my thoughts on life to the page for your perusal. I hope you are well and also that I shall see you tonight upon your return to Manchester? Should my wish to see you be granted I am sure our conversation upon seeing eachother will inevitably cover the contents of this letter and thus render it redundant, however, should events prevent our reunion this evening I shall be comforted by the fact that I have taken the opportunity to converse with you in epistolatory form.

As you will know, hangovers lend themselves to reflection of the depressive sort and this one has proven to be no exception; I have chosen lonliness today above summonning the energy to venture into Withington where the company of the others would await me. Instead of conversation I have chosen to occupy my time with introspection, on one subject in particular.

With Valentines day fast approaching I find myself preoccupied by the knowledge that I shall be spending this year's alone and not through choice, as I had previously convinced myself. I have previously allowed myself to become irritated with friends whose lives appearred to be punctuated by the sucession of men with which they shared them. I would often argue that there is more to life than relationships with the opposite sex, however, I now find myself asking if ultimately there is anything more to be attained than the perfect happiness found in loving another? What I had previously prided in myself as a fierce independence without the need for a male companion now appears to have been superceded by a stinging jealously and an all permeating lonliness.

I am eager to know your views on the subject and quick to point out that while it would appear fairly easy to find a man, finding love is near impossible and with that in mind there is little to comfort me and little strategy available to me aside from patience and blind faith, I currently find myself lacking in both.

Dearest Hannah I do hope I havent dampened your spirits or lowered your mood by sharing my considerations with you, and that you will appreciate my eagerness to invite you to share your own perspective on such matters is derived from a great respect for your views and the knowledge that your advice comes from intelligence, faith and a truly romantic soul.I leave with you with a heartfelt expression of love and friendship and an eagerness to recieve your reply.

Yours always,
Chloe.xx

Northern Exposures