Dear Son, Just a few lines to let you know that I am still alive. I am writing this letter slowly because I know that you cannot read very fast. You won't recognise the house anymore when you come home; we moved because your Dad read in the paper that most accidents happen within 20 miles of home. About your father - he has a lovely new job. He now has 500 people under him. He is cutting the grass at the cemetery. Auntie Maude has sent you a pair of socks she knitted, she put a third one in because she heard you have grown another foot since she last saw you. The coat you wanted me to send you, your Aunt Sue said it would be a little too heavy to send in the mail with the heavy buttons, so we cut them off and put them in the pockets. Jimmy locked his keys in the car yesterday. We were really worried because it took him two hours to get me and your father out. Your Uncle Dick drowned last week in a vat of whiskey in Dublin Brewery. Some of his co-workers dived in to save him, but he fought them off bravely. We cremated the body and it took three days to put out the fire. It only rained twice last week. First time was for three days and the second for four. On Monday the wind blew so hard that one of the chickens laid the same egg four times. We received a letter yesterday from the undertaker. He said that if the last payment on your Grandmother's funeral wasn't made, up she comes. Your loving Mother, Mum PS I was going to send you £20, but I have already sealed the envelope.