An Open Letter to the Elderly Woman on the Bus the Other Day

Dear Elderly Woman on the Bus the Other Day,

Let me start by apologizing for the fact that I don’t know your name, I should’ve asked but at the time it just didn’t come up. I imagine it would be something inappropriately badass for a woman of your age; something of a Xena, M or even Agent 99 would be fitting.

You probably wouldn’t expect my likening you to a warrior woman when we first met. After all, I imagine not many women in their late eighties would conjure such an image in one’s mind, but you certainly did. Maybe it was because you were sitting right up the back of the bus, like a high-school rebel, rocking your purple cardigan and white knitted hat. Or maybe it was just something to do with your general aura.

Anyway, I would just like to say thank you for absolutely making my day. Of all the people I strike up conversation with on public transport (I never really got the “don’t talk to strangers’ memo) you are by far my favourite. In the short fifteen or so minutes that we chatted you taught me many life lessons, most of which I assume have no basis other than your own meandering experience. Among other things, you taught me that being late is fine so long as you make an entrance, to always make sure you have lipstick on (“You never know when Mr. Clooney is going to wander into the supermarket”) and to never leave home without a middle finger to stick to someone who pisses you off. It is these fragments of possibly ill-guided advice that I will now implore myself to live by.

You can thus understand my utmost devastation when you got off at the next stop, and this being a route I don’t usually take I only later realised my predicament of not crossing paths with you again. Believe me had I realised this earlier I would have said this all to you in person, but at the time all I managed was a “Have a good day!” and you a “I always do”. If I am half as cool as you are at any point in my lifetime I will be insurmountably pleased with myself.

I would like to finish by saying that if the demi Gods of coincidence ever look down on me favourably and we should cross paths again, I will certainly shout you that skinny flat white you have been dying for all day.

Kind regards,

Girl on the Bus the Other Day

Train Station Musings #1

To the lady sitting next to me at the train station,

I can tell what you are thinking about me. You’re probably thinking – what is that crazy person writing about me? I can assure you it’s nothing out of the ordinary. That’s a lie. It’s just a little out of the ordinary. It wouldn’t be if you hadn’t oddly decided to sit so close to me. I mean, you are far enough away not to be weird, but close enough to be…curious. It’s just considering the array of empty seats around us. I probably shouldn’t be jotting this down – I wouldn’t be surprised if you could read it.

Okay, so you could read it. I’m sorry for making you slide down the bench a little.

Can I just say that that scarf you are wearing is possibly the most fashionable thing I have ever seen? Okay, that’s a lie too. Maybe I’m just trying to make you feel better in case you can still read this. You must have very good eyesight, my handwriting is quite scrawly at the best of times, and from that previous distance whoa thats not bad.

Anyway, you shall forever be that person who I possibly offended a little in the train station. If you knew me, you would realise that certainly wasn’t my intention. I just tend to let my mind wander without realising it sometimes. And it’s an old habit to write about my minds wanderings (a habit I have turned into a blog actually – you should read it, I’ll probably end up posting this one).

Well you have taught me an important lesson anyway. Practice better handwriting. No I’m just kidding, the lesson is to not let my mind wander to the people around me when writing in a public place.

For the sake of any further embarrassment to me I really hope you don’t get on my train. With my luck you would turn out to be my neighbour or something.

Kind Regards,

Write and Day

 

An Open Letter to Open Letters

Dear Open Letters, 

Or may I call you Letty? I feel like we have become good friends now. In my seemingly never-ending endeavour to find blog topics, I have often fallen upon your clever words of wisdom. It seems that I often find myself delighted at the sight of you scrolling by in my blog feed. So I do thank you for that, however, I also have some other things I would like to discuss with you.

Firstly, I really think you could shorten your name from ‘Open Letter’ to simply ‘Letter’ (although Letty does have a nice ring to it). I suggest this simply due to the fact that you are mostly found on the internet, a public sphere, thus I feel it is already in your nature to be ‘open’ without having to state so. I am certainly not saying that you have to, just a suggestion. 

Secondly, I have to admit that whenever I read your previously mentioned words of wisdom, I always have that same voice in my head. It seems that no matter your author I just always imagine you being read out by Sir Ian McKellen. Every time I begin, I can’t help but picturing Mr McKellen sitting quietly at his desk, reading you off a perfectly aged scroll, written with the quill of an eagle. So I apologise if you in fact have no resemblance to this figment of my imagination.  

Lastly, I would just like to inform you that although I read pages and pages of you, this will be the last Open Letter I write. This is mostly due to the fact that I’m not very good at it. Who knows, maybe I will start to branch out and drag myself away from the ‘Open Letter’ tags, and into other aspects of the blogger-verse…

Nevertheless, I don’t think that this is goodbye, merely farewell.

Lots of love,

Yours sincerely,

Write and Day