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The poison pen…

The malice of some woman. Jealous. Empty life. Alcoholic.

A friend in Brooklyn said ‘No wonder he preferred you to her’. People who do this are mentally ill.

I would know this writing anywhere although she has attempted to straighten her dropped curls. The note paper is a complete give away.

Her sister will recognise it as well as Michael.

Tiny minds do tiny things. But the damage caused is unforgiveable. Thankfully I am friendly with a Chief Inspector, who has used his discretion to allocate an officer. They are really busy right now. She can sweat. So can the letting agency who blamed me for the loss of the last tenants.

I am still enjoying English conversation classes. I wish I had started before last summer.

My garden will be beautifully nourished by rain water. It is still raining.

Zoom poetry last night. Chaotic but no one got drunk. Professional poetry events by zoom have an agenda, and no one speaks. It feels odd not to clap. But no chaos.