Dear Anna
Thank you for the reminder about needing more washing powder, as usual I had, in fact, forgotten. And while I think about it, because I’ll probably never remember to say it, thank you for not reacting to Grumpy Child no.2 who wouldn’t let you put her tights on this morning. I know she can be trying, but it’s just a phase. Deep down she’s such a sweetie. And she’s so fond of you.
I was wondering this morning, whilst upside down on my mat, why getting this silly book published mattered so much. It’s a pride thing of course, if only I’d kept my mouth shut about writing and the book, it wouldn’t matter at all. But it seems that over the course of four years, I’ve managed to tell pretty much the whole world. And apart from the personal satisfaction and being able to dedicate it to Long Suffering Husband, I realised that it really mattered that you saw it in print. That I could show you and say: ‘Look, Anna, whilst you clean my house and tolerate my children, and generally keep our family running, I”m not just sitting on Facebook or updating my wishlist on The Outnet. I am a writer, I too have a job.’ Somehow I feel that you don’t quite believe it.
I must dash. Would you mind awfully picking the girls up this afternoon? I’ll leave money for a taxi, it’s very cold today. And I’ll pick up the washing powder on my way home.
Yours unrepresented,
Rosie
Rosie Rowell 