An unexpected treat to offset the gloom of February's fog: a letter from my NorthWalian correspondent, bless her.
Dear Mrs Stallone, she writes, You must forgive my long silence, but I have been knitting a scarf for charity, which has kept my fingers busy and so unable to do the things I most like doing with my fingers.
I was SO pleased to see a piece on the telly about you remaking that Rimbaud film. You are the poet-warrior par excellence, as they say. You look so appetising running around all glistening and muscular and your brow all puckered every time you kill someone, not, you understand, that I have a "thing" for dominant muscular women. That was the late Mr Trellis' department, along with parrots.
It's none of my business, but I think you could easily win the Democratic presidential nomination if you put your mind and your weapon to it. After all, nobody really wants that Clinton woman, dressed or naked - she's so OBVIOUS - and that Barack person seems far too SMALL to be a President.
But maybe between your movie career and running Amazon.com, you have enough excitement in your life. If you are ever in Llanfair pg, do call in and I will let you run your strong muscular hands over my scarf.
Respectfully, Blodwen Trellis, Mrs, Widow, unabashed.