(aproximate length, 5 pages)

Dear Diana
oh, what can I say of those summer days we spent together in Bournemouth? Yes, I know it was November and usually raining, but summer I say and summer I mean, for you are my favourite season.
Around me now is the drabness of an emerging winter. I stand solitary, and shiver my way through this meaningless life. Without you, Diana, there is no warmth and there is no meaning. When your train left the station, tears swelled in my eyes and emptuness in my heart. I long for you, Diana, you must know that. I feel the need of you with my whole being.
That Wednesday afternoon, as we giggled together beneath your too small umbrella. It was the greatest day of my otherwise dull existance. We walked along the prom, like two doves blown together by the winds of fate; like two children at large in the world of adults. For that day we had our own secret realm, just us. I didn't notice that the rain beat down. And as we huddled on the covered bench, I didn't even notice the panorama of the sea. My attention was all for you. You filled my senses, filled them with joy.
But you felt you had to leave, I don't know why. OK, I know that we're adults, free and independent. Fine, you don't have to explain. You must have had your reasons for going not to the loo, but rather running to the station. I saw you go though because, as I've said, the rolling waves held no attraction for me. So I watched you, Diana, and followed you too. My soul was frantic, but my legs couldn't keep pace over the mile and a half distance. Several times I neared you, but you know that town better than I. You turned down corners that hadn't existed before, and crossed the traffic streams like a tightrope walker. You don't need ot explain, Diana. You must have had your reasons. I hope you can share them with me; why you swopped my loving embrace for the train.
Anyway, my darling, I must leave your company now, though my thoughts remain with you, always. You are my goddess, you see; my deity. You should be called Aphrodite; named of love, not as a huntress. You are the light of my day, Diana, the warmth of my fire. Maybe we could meet sometime, for a drink or a meal. The Wimpey Bar's really good here, you know. Fabulous cheeseburgers. Counting the days till I see your face again. Please phone.
Eternally loving,
Gary

Dear creep,
don't know why I'm bothering to write this reply. Certainly not going to send it. Yes I am. Tell you why first. Do not write again. Right? I'd rather throw up than see your face. The results would be more attractive. Get it? Good, well get lost.
Now, what is all this crap? Summer? Summer! It was bloody freezing. Yes, did hold your arm as we 'walked' along. Was trying to stop you falling over. You weren't walking. You were drunk, on two pints of lager! Was worried you'd crack your skull open on the promenade. Would have let you too, except I felt sorry for the poor buggers who'd have to have cleaned up the mess.
"I feel the need of you with my whole being." Almost right. Feel. You certainly did. My whole being. You tried and got pretty close. You've got more hands than the average cruise ship. Hope you strangle yourself with them.
Do you know why you didn't notice the rain beneath my umbrella? We weren't both under it, mate. You hogged it all. I noticed the rain. Got drenched. Thanks a bundle. Haven't stopped sneezing yet.
Now, that huddling on the bench business. Should sure you for attempted rape. You huddled everything you could against me. Was not a pleasant experience. Would sue too, but from what I was forced to feel by you, attempt is all you could manage. Boy, did God shortmeasure you.
Will tell you why I left to be chased through the streets by a drunk. You are a juvenile, hypocritical, obnoxious creep, with an excessive sex-drive, no doubt unfulfilled. Your life ain't meaningless, mush, it's you. Believe me. British Rail coffee's in a different league to your embrace. No competition.
Light of your day? Bet it's midnight. Warmth of your fire? You need central heating. Counting the days? Hope you've got a bloody computer.
Remember, don't write again. Just try suicide.
Definitely not your's, but sincerely,
Diana

PS: Did your parents have a sense of humour, or did they just hate the world and want it to suffer?

Dear Dr Simmonds,
I would like to take this occasion to thank you for your efforts in combatting my receeding hairline difficulty. I would like to but, in honesty, don't feel able.
Your 'baldness, beat it my way' transplant treatment is indeed quite remarkable and truly, it has worked beyond my wildest expectations. The slight problem is that my expectations weren't all that wild. Let me try to explain.
By your simple and uniqued method of transferring roots from the sides and back of my head, and transplanting them into my scalp, my hair growth has become permanent again. On my scalp. This is fine, almost, but I shall go into that in a minute.
You see, the sides and back of my cranium are now totally bald. The final hairs fell out this morning, whilst I was shaving my astonishingly fast growing... No, I shall also go into that in a minute. When this final tuft fell out, I couldn't help but notice that my right ear lobe seemed to be missing. That is to say, I had a right ear left, if you see what I mean but somehow, it didn't seem to be mine. I don't wish to complain, and I'm certainly not considered to be a racist by my friends, (all caucasion I admit, but still). No, but you see Dr, you being a medical man and all, 'my' ear is now black, Afro I suppose, and it has a ring in it. It just doesn't look right. Well, it does look right as opposed to left, but... You know. I don't think it's the same one I took into your clinic with me. I've also had to purchase, at great expense, a second music centre, as I find a strange urge to listen to Mantovani and Bob Marley simultaneously. Do you think this might be symptomatic of something?
To return to my next point. (Is that correct grammar? I suppose it is not really important, but with you being an educated man and all - I was most impressed by your file of diplomas- I do feel that I should make an effort with my grammar. Oh sorry, I'm getting sidetracked.) My next point. My hair growth on the top of my head is truly astonishing. I now have a fine growth of black hair; very nice black hair. The thing is you see, I used to be ginger. My family tree is largely Scottish, and I was quite proud of that actually. A minor point posssibly, but it does seem a bit odd to a layman.
The other thing is that I'm quite short, five foot four, but I find myself having to stoop through doorway. The hair's growing straight upwards you see, three foot in a month so far, and my neighbour says that I might need planning permission for it soon. I wonder if you could tell me whether this phenomenon is a temporary side effect? If not, should I visit the town hall, or is it a matter for the county council?
Finally, I do seem to be shaving rather more than usual. A dozen times a day actually. Despite this, I still wake up with a fair sized beard every morning, about eight foot of it, though I can't be precise.
What I was wondering is this. Would it be possible to revisit you, Doctor, and discuss these problems with you? I did call at your clinic yesterday, but it seems to have turned into a travel agency. The manager, (he looked remarkably like you oddly enough, and seems highly qualified), said that he didn't have a forwarding address as such, but could pass mail on via a mutual acquaintence. He also sold me a very good value holiday in Albania, which I hope to be able to take soon.
I hope this letter finds you shortly and, if you have the time, you could offer me some advice on the above points. I look forward to receiving your reply.
Your's faithfully,
Mr J.K. Moore

Dear Mr Moore,
I'm afraid that Dr Simmonds is so busy helping people like yourself, with his unique 'baldness, beat it my way' transplant treatment, that he's unable to enter into personal correspondence on the interesting topics raised in your recent letter. However, he has instructed me to be of assistance, where I'm able. Perhaps you might consider the following.
I'm sorry your metabolism seems to be interferring with your excellent, value for money cure. However, despite the slight eccentricities, I feel sure you must be generally satisfied. The Dr finds this very gratifying.
The type of hair growth described does sound somewhat unusual. Are yor certain that the rear and sides of your head aren't in contact with any noxious substances? After all, weedkiller can cause damage in the garden, if improperly deployed. Furthermore, my daughter, a lovely, respectable girl, informs me that the 'anti-Newton' look is in this year. She says your style sounds very trendy. She's quite jealous actually.
I'd imagine the reaction of your ear to the treatment could be a touch disturbing. Might I suggest you see things in a different light? Being able to appreciate a broad range of cultures makes life a richer tapestry. Thanks to your altered sense of hearing, you've now managed to gain new insight into Mantovani. I applaud your good fortune.
Your hair's tonal alteration does disturb me. I'm afraid this is a further condemnation of the foolishness of our modern way of life. So many chemicals have been pumped into the atmosphere of late, that the kind of reaction which you've experienced is becoming increasingly common. For example, the entire Paraguayan pygmy race have recently grown an average of 17.9659 inches taller. This is why there are no longer any Paraguayan pygmies. Truly, it is a frightening age in which we live.
I'm afraid that your facial hair may be victim of a similar mishappenstance, but this could actually be seen as a blessing. After all, you need never buy another blanket to sleep under. I also feel that, if you were to take up knitting, then you'd be able to manufacture all kinds of useful garments from your beard. This could give you a handsome new source of income, as well as providing an absorbing hobby. Details of courses are available from your local library.
Finally, on behalf of Dr Simmonds, I thank you for your interest in his life's work, and trust that my reply has been of help to you. Showing that he's an honourable man of good faith, (whilst accepting no responsibility for your physical uniqueness), the Dr has asked me to enclose a discount voucher for your forthcoming holiday. Best of luck for the future and Bon Voyage.
Sincerely yours
John Smith

Dear Mr Evans;
thank you for your recent enquiry regarding Dr Simmond's 'baldness, beat it my way', transplant treatment. I think the best I can do is to quote your extracts from a recent letter our Foundation has received; let our clients speak for themselves!
"Dear Dr Simmonds,
I would like to take this occasion to thank you for your efforts in combatting my redeeding hairline difficulty... Your 'baldness, beat it my way' transplant treatment is indeed quite remarkable and truly, it has worked beyond my wildest expectations...
"the sides and back of my cranium are now... astonishingly fast growing...
"My hair growth on the top of my head is truly astonishing. I now have a fine growth of black hair... "What I was wondering is this? Would it be possible to revisit you, Doctor?
"it seems... very good value.
Your's faithfully,
Mr J.K. Moore"

These words came from Mr J K Moore of Twickenham.
If you wish to know more, please send a stamped addressed envelope and a cheque for 275 pounds to:
Dr Simmonds Foundation
c/o BETA Travel Agency
Reigate Road
Bexhill