Dru, Steinbeck and the Book of Deer

Dear Juliet More precisely, I have not forgotten, abandoned or discarded you. You're worth a lot. I'll be along later with a full article, and I lit a candle for Tony in the lady chapel today. Love, James

Dear Juliet A long day, too little sleep, searching around for a supportive subject to tell you about and what do I find? My new phone! To say that it's not a smartphone would be putting it mildly. In fact, it's a replica of the old rotary dial devices dumped on the nation by the General Post Office (GPO) over thirty years ago. I grew up with them, and I was a bit cheesed off we threw away one of the originals too quickly. So when I changed my broadband and my old BT landline phone couldn't handle it, I went back to the future and replaced it with a replica of our fine old family phone. I can see your eyes glazing over with boredom, so I'll be brief. Not knowing anything about U.S. telecommunications history, I guessed this style of phone would look like something from Mars to you. But then I looked at Tom Hanks' telephone scene in Sleepless In Seattle  again and realised you did actually have something similar back then. I don't think I'll be doing the ki...

Dear Juliet I think you need a good long hug. 🤗 There. Hope you enjoyed it! With love, James

Dear Juliet I'm navigating the fact that you're deeply upset about losing Tony and the realisation Buffy may terminally have been holed below the waterline, and part of me thought of a couple of Fix-It schemes. But I think maybe the last thing you want is someone cheerily to attempt the impossible on your behalf. So I thought what I might try to do at this, the midnight hour (and no, Drusilla is not nibbling on my earlobe), is say that even if Buffy , Dru and Hollywood itself had never existed, I'd feel the same way about you. That's because of your own innate worth. That je ne sais quoi which makes you stick out in the crowd and stay stuck in the mind. And as Elvis said, you were always on my mind . Pre-dawn in New York, with the Empire State Building solidifying from dawn's mists. On Washington's streets, surrounded by striking workers. Chicago, mid-morning, waiting on the bus to Amarillo. Oklahoma City, 4.30 am on a dark day... All night long in Vegas, at t...

Dear Juliet I'm pleased to say the church was open this Sunday, as I believe they usually are. I hope you like the photo of your light in the lady chapel. You are always first in my thoughts, I wanted to light the one candle for you and only belatedly thought of Anthony. I'll do one for him on Tuesday. I hope you're coping as well as you can. It gets a little easier every day: get up, grind through the jobs to get them out of the way, try and find something to brighten up your day. Sometimes this is all we can do. And then one day it's a little easier. Tom Hanks sums it up rather beautifully  near the end of this scene in   Sleepless in Seattle . I know Seattle quite well. I'd also mention that you're free to do as you please. I understand children of narcissists need to be reminded of this. The Hollywood bubble won't burst if you step out of it for a day or two, and I'm not talking about going to Point Lobos or Avalon. Just take your car and head out on...

Dear Juliet I hope you're coping. I also hope you're enjoying my blogs in the "wee small hours", as the old Scots phrase goes. I couldn't get into church to light a candle for you today but I'll have another go tomorrow. I believe they're open on Sundays. In the meantime, even in these circumstances, it's nice writing to you again. A bit like that time you were stranded in London with the riots going on. I sometimes think we nearly broke the Internet. I knew it was a very difficult time for you, but I can't deny that I liked talking with you more than I usually did. Bit of an inversion: I was safe and sound in Roberton, you were in a London which seemed like it was blowing up... Well, tonight I had too many mochas and too much chocolate. I caught a bit of The Glenn Miller Story with James Stewart and turned into the usual puddle of goo when I saw Frances Langford singing in front of a B-17. My father liked Glenn Miller. He was completely tone deaf...