Okay. This is breaking so many rules that I imposed upon myself when I started out on this blog.

First:

Regina, I meant you when I referred to Renata in my last post to Bridge. Admittedly, I did not mention to you that I was married yesterday evening, but what does that have to do with anything? You did not accept my invitation, in any event. So I cannot be to blame for failing to get a few letters of your name wrong.

Second:

Bridge, I am still sorry, but you do have to grow up. I am a writer and a rover. I am not a one town a year kind of guy. You knew that, you know that. You're giving me a headache. I know you'll not like me addressing Regina ahead of you but please realise that I'm in a situation here where Regina is in close proximity and, therefore, must be pacified first.

You choose completely the wrong moment to pick me up on my Renata/Regina thing. Look, I am sure I told you about Renata. She was the nice Slovakian cleaner that Giles and Max had when I was staying with them in New York towards the end of last year. What happened between us (me and Renata, you'll understand) was without doubt fantastic, but not in any way serious. Please believe me.

All things considered and, in light of my return to London on Thursday, I'd be grateful if you could pick up my suits from the dry cleaners, as well as ordering some cigars and some decent whisky. For Christ's sake, darl, I've been drinking Johnny Walker for the past few days and I am in some need of a decent dram. If you have any doubts, give Mummsy a call or Tom Hawkes.

The battery is about to go on my 'top, so I will have to leave for now.

MB.