I've just realised that this will my five hundredth post on here. So the pressure is on to try and be profound, but I don't have anything profound at hand and so this will have to do:
I bought a batch of second hand books recently and when I was having a look through one of them out fell a previous reader's bookmark.
It fell on the floor and it was immediately apparent that it was a letter from a doctor's surgery. It was on headed notepaper and folded into thirds in that way that seems obvious until I try to do it myself. I checked the address and it had come from Paisley. Not a part of the world I know.
I unfolded the letter, a bit wary that I might be about to poke my nose quite far into someone else's business. I read the letter and I was relieved. There were no specifics. I may have poked my nose, but thankfully not directly into an open wound.
The letter reads:
I hope these give you many minutes of pleasure, and to take you back to earlier days, when you actually were very discerning, but just didn't realise it.
Happy Prime of Life,
Imagine my initial surprise at the tone of the letter and my relief at realising that Doylee wasn't receiving bad news. I don't know whether the "these" that the letter were the books I'd later bought or whether it applied to something else entirely. It doesn't really matter. What a lovely letter. Of course the people of Paisley may be less impressed to discover that a doctor is using NHS funds and supplies to send books to his friends. I checked the surgery's website and Dr. Andy is still there.
If anything I wrote gave anyone "many minutes of pleasure" I'd be ecstatic.