We, the Management and Staff, at Twilight Lawns plc are beginning to be a trifle concerned concerning some of your more recent utterances. It has been noted that, in your written communication with the outside world, you are veering ever towards the mean. From the security of your little nook in the Lord Kitchener wing, you issue written statements… sometimes of only two words and little sense, and then like the naughty little mole that you are, you pull the earth up over you and hibernate, or estavate, whatever is currently appropriate.
But now, we have noted, as Nurse Smythe most diligently drew to our attention, a new direction in your thought (for want of a better word) processes. You have taken on the persona of a Mr/Mrs/Ms/Miss Marion Fair-Bart. This name, Marion, as you may be aware, is a unisex name, also known as an epicene name; it is a given name that is often given to either a boy or a girl. Are you attempting, by assuming that persona, to tell us something that should perhaps be the province of your immediate family, your religious counsellor, or your doctor?
If the latter is the case, perhaps, as the dear man has suggested, my brother, Dr Nigel Plantagenet-Featheringstonehaugh would like to come out of retirement to study your case. He thought it fascinating and could see many possible permutations as to the outcome of an in-depth case study.
We had a mini conference on Wednesday evening after Residents’ bed time, and between the Madeira cake and the dry sherry, Staff made suggestions as to what might be the eventual outcome of this situation, if we were to approach you with offers of assistance.
During the discussion, it was mentioned that there was that very strange little incidents (or series of incidents) last year with the tall lady truck driver who came to the Home and demanded to know where you were; the evening when the local constabulary were called to the Dog and Duck, Merton-on-the-Water when your karaoke experience "blossomed" into a pole dancing routine with several very strange young gentlemen/ladies dressed in rubber, or polythene or some other distasteful man made fibres; the incident when you burst into Matron’s office when she was measuring Wladyslaw and Czcibor for their costumes for the production of Cleopatra. It is remembered that you were most interested in the fabric of Czcibor’s skirt.
Raj (dear sweet boy) spoke up in you defence and stated in a roundabout way that there was little wrong with you in the trouser department; which I took to mean that he was referring to your earlier life when employed in the Haberdashery Department of:
Staid & Whyffle
(by Appointment to George V and the Duke of Clarence),
Dear sweet Mr Lincoln-Palmistry, you are a shining light at Twilight Lawns, and it would be a shame if you were to descend into the gloom of muddled thought and ramblings with which you were afflicted when you first arrived at our Little Refuge in a Cruel World.
Please let us know, in your own sweet time, if we can be of any assistance.
By the way, there is absolutely no connection with this offer of assistance and the soon to be published (Faber and Faber @ £19.99) : “Poetic Thoughts and Experiences of a Poet Laureate, Retired”, which is being run in episodic form simultaneously by The News of the World and Hello magazine.
By serendipity, your request to be moved from your present room to the en suite room overlooking the garden has been approved and you will be able to move your precious little possessions to that situation as soon as we have had a little cosy chat. How about tomorrow afternoon, about four. A glass of Amontillado will await you.