A letter from Brentford.

And a very big kiss for Postie, the one and only Andy the Postman, who was my postman on and off for 25 years. I reckon he put in requests every time I moved, so that he could still deliver my letters!

It all started when I saw him reading people’s postcards when he delivered them to Wilton Avenue, where I used to live. Having decided he was a nosy bugger I then would add notes addressed to him at the bottom of postcards to neighbours in my street. Things like ‘ oi Postie, you shouldn’t be reading this, you nosy f******r !’

Gradually I got to the point where the whole postcard would be written to him, but addressed to my neighbour Nick in the street, because I knew that Postie would definitely read it, and I could be rude to him whilst lying on a beach far away..

I saw him whilst out the other night with Toby and Cress, who didn’t this time bring a date for me ….😳🤦‍♂️ and he told me how affected he’d been by my injury, and how he’s always read this diary.

So hello mate.. and any chance you could deliver to Brentford? You know it’s your destiny! 😂

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