“Running through wheat”, the collected letters of T May to people she admires, letter No 1
Dear J C,
I hope I do not embarrass you, writing to you in this way, in secret?
I must confess I feel a little sheepish. Almost as if I am doing something I should not. Talking to the enemy feels so naughty, I had to check the walk-in wardrobe for a farmer.
But why shouldn’t two grown ups write to each other. I have left the question mark off the end of that sentence, because it is rhetorical.
When I conceived of the plan of writing to you I felt strong and stable, but now, faced with the reality of putting pen to paper I find I do not know which way to turn.
Do you often feel the same? Unable to decide what to do at times of crisis?
The really big decisions in life, like, how heavy a chain to wear around your neck so as to appear truly powerful?
What thickness leather trousers to wear when relaxing?
Whether or not to destroy the entire automotive manufacturing sector in your country because some excitable types in your party believe that everything will be printed out in 2D shortly, even the workers?
We do like a bit of mismanaged decline. What about you?
I won’t write much longer as I know you are building a movement. It seems very zen of you, to start something perfect that you will throw away as soon as you have finished.
But I feel I should thank you.
Thank you.
We should go hill walking together one day. I will show you things you wouldn’t believe.
Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate. They are all moments which will be lost in time, like tears in rain.
I feel a bit funny now. Almost as if my batteries need charging.
Write back to me.
I can’t do Brexit without you.
Best regards,
Your secret admirer
(Not so secret now! Blush!)