Hedwig always took the positive view of life. Her biggest challenge came when she lost her sight. It was a very difficult situation of course, made doubly worse by the fact that she was a professional typist. Mind you, she was a touch typist so she could still type transcriptions of audios.
It was a great help that her boss at work was in fact her first cousin. She said, “Hedwig, there’s no reason why you can’t continue to work here. And we shall begin with a short thankyou note I would like typed out that I have dictated on my phone. And make a copy.”
Hedwig typed it out in double quick time. It was easy-peasy. Hedwig’s cousin thanked her profusely. It looks like Hedwig’s job is secure. Here’s the copy:
Thanekypi sp ,icj gpt uypi ;eyyer pg vpmspo;emn cr/ Annie anmd O ertr gr;ohjkyrf up trvrobr oy smf oy jhwbn5 or ,ifj fp,t;67
Kind re4ghartd Dave
Hedwig’s cousin said she was delighted. She continued to employ Hedwig for years after.
The highlight of aging Egbert’s day was to wander out to the gate to check the mailbox. Even though the mail delivery van came past sometime between 10 and 11 o’clock in the morning, Egbert put off checking until around about 2 o’clock; sometimes as late as 3 o’clock. It was good to extend the excitement of anticipation a little. Once the mailbox had been checked and there was nothing there, all excitement had gone; all anticipation had gone.
These days there were never any bills. Most of that was done on line. So things arriving in the mail were almost certainly personal letters of one sort or another.
Who knows? Perhaps a distant elderly aunt had bequeathed him a fortune. Perhaps he’d won a free supermarket trolley dash; five minutes to gather as much free stuff as possible. Perhaps it was a letter out of the blue from an old school chum of years ago. Anything was possible.
On this particularly day he checked the mail. He was a little later than usual. It was about 4 in the afternoon. There was a letter for him there. He didn’t recognize the handwriting. How exciting!
Egbert waited until he was back in the house before opening it. It was an envelope of white powder. Egbert had been a government spy back in earlier days. These days the government were having a “clean-up”.
If there was one thing that Jacqueline disliked doing, it was writing a letter of condolence. What does one say? But something had to be said, especially since Will Jones, the husband of one of her closest friends from school days, had passed away. What a shock his death had been. Jacqueline hadn’t seen Sheila for years, but she read the death in the paper; Will Jones, loved husband of Sheila.
Dear Sheila, I was shocked to read in the paper of Will’s passing. When young, the three of us had spent many happy hours… etc.
Jacqueline laboured almost two hours getting it right. In the end, she was rather pleased with her two page note. She posted it.
Dear Jacqueline, (wrote Sheila) Will and I split up about fourteen years ago. He lived in Colorado with his money-grabbing lover. As far as I know, he died when I hit him with the hammer. I didn’t hang round to find out. I’m expecting the police to call any day. In the meantime, can we meet for coffee? Sheila
In the scheme of things this little letter of the alphabet, although simply a Q, had waited a long time to come into existence. Each letter of the alphabet may seem the same (a w is a w), yet each one is different; the placement of the letter within the word, the placement of the word in a sentence, that sentence in a novel or a poem or a history book… And what language? A capital or a small letter? And next to what other letters? Perhaps even next to a semi-colon – and for centuries to come. A letter cast not in bronze or set in stone but placed in an indestructible word! Indeed, the pen is mightier than the sword.
This little Q – a capital letter – had waited since the beginning of written language to discover its destiny and to fulfil it. And the time was drawing near! The line was getting shorter. The work in which it was to be placed had begun to be typed. It was to be in a book filled with wisdom! It was typed out on a computer – and a fairly dilapidated one at that! The Q knew, being a capital, it would begin either a sentence or a proper name! What sentence? What proper name? The moment had arrived!
Qui court deux lievres a la fois, n’en prend aucun.
Oh! how the little letter wished it understood French.