Dear J,

I just found one of your bras in the bathroom, and it made me miss you.

You also left a few presents for me in the kitchen: four mouldy pink yoghurts, some fermenting strawberries and a packet of ready-meal pasta that expired months ago, but looks like it could have been bought yesterday. I'm not sure which is more gross.

I don't judge you too much for getting a posh room and a massage; some luxuries are allowed. But while you've been living it up in Shanghai, I've been getting my head down and joining the world of work. My job for this week consists of photocopying. Endless photocopying. And not just standard photocopying either - now I can do duplex photocopying, and A3 photocopying, and the photocopying of hundreds of pages all at once.

Photocopiers are evil machines, just like printers. And scanning at the publisher I'm working at is fiendishly complex. I have a twenty-point list of instructions on how to scan proofs, and I still can't do it right. Today I had to scan in this 300 page proof, and the photocopier would wait till I did about 140 pages, then jam and crash, so I had to delete the whole job and start again. Four times. I then tried splitting the job into three 100 page chunks to solve the problem. So of course, it scanned them all to the same file, overwriting the first two sections in the process. I made this face. The job ended up taking me about three hours. I think I'm a bad temp. No, photocopiers are bad machines.

Miss you, love you

C

xxx

Dear J,

Thank you for setting up such a beautiful blog for me. This is my slightly rubbish attempt at a response. I don't have your mad design skills, but I'll try my best to create something worthy of you. It's a work in progress right now, but I promise I'll make it better.

We went punting. With Alec. It was lol.

Oxford isn't the same either. Everyone is gone from college, and the weather is hotter and more sultry. Your beloved wife is as hot and sultry as ever, of course.

Miss you too!

love,

C

xxx