Steeple Aston
Oxford
London
England
Europe
The World
Dear Pip, Brigid, Michael, Frank, Hal, Raymond, Elias, David et al,
My dearest, sweetest darlings. I am having a lovely time at Oxford and have just read Plato, he really is a marvellous chap. I think I might be a neo-Platonist. I have joined the Communist party because I have decided I am now communistic. I really do feel very sorry for all the poor people. I must go now. It is the evening of the May ball and I need to get ready as I have a date with Frank. Or possibly Hal.
I am now no longer communistic as I have read a marvellous chappie called Jean-Paul Sartre. I think I might now be a neo-Platonic-existentialist. My love life has becoming awfully complicated today. I was meant to be going out with Frank but fell deep into celestial heaven with Thomas at lunchtime, who became the devil incarnate at tea when I leapt into bed with Pip, whom I love more than any other woman alive. By dinner time, I needed to go home alone, but not before meeting Michael for a quickie. Heigh ho. I expect everything will resolve itself.
Bonjour. Me voici a Bruxelles. I’ve just read Middlemarch. It is a jolly exciting read, On my way home I met Wittgenstein. I now feel I really am a neo-Platonic-existential-Wittgensteinian. It was so lovely to meet you for an hour, David, and I could not be happier that we agreed to get married during that time. Please do remember to buy some toothpaste next time. I believe it is available from all good chemists and other stockists. You are, of course, quite right that it was a bit sudden to get engaged, and I am absolutely thrilled you have now met someone on your way to work to whom you have proposed.
I have just finished reading a book called David Copperfield. It is by a writer called Charles Dickens. Have you heard of him? He really is terribly talented, if a little verbose at times. I have also just met a philosopher called Freddie Ayer. I can’t remember whether we slept together or not, but I am definitely now a neo-Platonic-existential-Wittgensteinian-logical positivist which must make me the cleverest person in Britain. I am also writing a book about Sartre as well as a novel, but I’m sure you would much rather I wittered on about the shopping I have done as the apples were quite pricey.
Would you believe it? I seem at some point to have got married to a cove called John. Don’t ask me to tell you his surname, darling, as I’ve simply no idea. Luckily John is an absolute sweety who doesn’t mind at all that I am having an affair with Elias, who is deliciously ugly. Elias is less keen on the situation and insists on taking me very roughly. You don’t mind me telling you this, do you, my darling Brigid? I hope you are not feeling jealous that my time with him takes me away from the hours we spend together in bed. Just to clarify things. I am not a lesbian. I am a male homosexual. I have thought about this a lot and, as usual, have come to the conclusion that I am right.
After a gentle walk in the Parks I have decided to leave Oxford as there is no one left in the college with whom I have not slept. So to somewhere else, where I have been busy writing about a dozen novels, many of which have received extremely favourable notices, though I won’t bore you with the details. I have started an affair with several other people whose names I did not catch as I was on my way back from the local shop. I have heard there are new shops called supermarkets where you can buy all sorts of things under one roof. I can’t see that idea catching on.
John and I went to Canada. It was very nice. Niagara Falls was very, very big and surprisingly wet. I have just read a book called Rebecca. It was extremely thrilling and made me think a lot. Mainly about how clever and well-read I am. Yesterday I won something called the Brooker Prize for one of my novels, but you won’t be very interested in that. Must go, as I need to buy an umbrella.
MUCH LOVE
I
PS Please make sure that none of these letters are ever published as I am fully aware they are all basically a load of rubbish.
Digested read, digested: Too much information.
