March 12th, 1990

March 12th, 1990

At home

Just read David’s most recent letter, whilst listening to Tanita Tikaram crooning “Twist In My Sobriety,” through my new headphones, which are bigger than my Walkman and sound amazing. At this rate, I expect the cassette is about to snap, from the amount of times I’ve rewound it.

I saw the video on MTV in New York the other day and wish I had even a quarter of Miss Tikaram’s smoldering good looks, she really is stunning.

Went to look at new houses with dad but all the developments looked the same and I had to laugh when one of the real estate agents described what I thought was a broom cupboard as “a possible nursery.” Honestly, lady, do I look like I’m about to have a baby any time soon? The search was really discouraging and I just can’t imagine living in a little box that looks the same as everything else. I think my next step is to start looking in the North of France and I believe I know just the guy to help!

David’s letter is really lovely; mostly about Los Angeles and his favourite places in the city. “I don’t have any work-related trips coming up for at least another month,” he wrote. “It’d be awesome if you could get out here. I’d love to show you around.” I do believe I’d like that too (slight understatement) but I have zero leave and a full roster so I guess it won’t be happening.

All God’s children need travelling shoes,

Drive your problems from here.

All good people read good books.

Now your conscious is clear.

I hear you talk, girl.

Ah, sing it Tanita.

 

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