A Friend.

I need a friend. I really seriously need a friend. I have a couple of friends who are both male and often very kind to me, but it’s a female friend that I need.

Sadly, women don’t like me all that much. And I have no idea for why. I cannot think of anything that I ever did, or anything that I can do to change this.

But six months ago a couple moved into the house next door to me. They are the son and daughter in law of my long known Parisian neighbours who were often absent in Paris.
And today I took them, or her, a couple of The Hydrangea Cuttings that I didn’t sell at The Brocante. And glory be, she knew exactly who I am. She knew my name, that only The French use, and The English never do.
I have been Mitch since I was knee high in Angleterre. But I bought this house from French neighbours, so only they know that my name is Maureen. But then The French put an entirely different inflection on this horrible name. And it is almost acceptable.
How would you like to be called Mau? It’s horrible.

So somebody has mentioned me to her, hopefully kindly.
I do, as it happens, cut their front verges while I am cutting my own, but it only takes me about ten minutes longer, which I have been doing for many a long year. So nothing much at all, really.

As it happens, her English is about as good as my French, which isn’t all that good.

But might I have found a friend? I do so hope so.

Maureen Eleanor Mitchell.