Trellis sets her cap

I find it hard to believe that Mrs Trellis would set her cap at another man, but wonders never cease.
Cher President Sarkozy, she writes, may I first of all congratify you on becoming President of France and what's left of her Dominicans. But my main reason for putting pen to wordprocessor is to say how much I admire your love of beans. The late Mr Trellis shared your enthusiasm, despite the flatulence. Well, more, because of it. Being a deft harmonium player, he realised the musical potential of the humble bean, and could give a convincing rendition of Men of Harlech, or at least of the first stanza before Nature intervened, so to speak.
You know, mon cher monsieur president, the French and the Welsh have SO much in common: singing, the arts, lakes and mountains, good food, sympathy for small farmers, distrust of the English, and now beans.
If you are ever in North Wales, call in, and I can promise you an experience with cassoulet beans and celery that will make you forget you are a married man, heaven forbid.
Blodwen Trellis, Mrs, Widow, Retired.