Mother,

I am writing to let you know I have arrived.

Beryl

Postscript: Grandmother says that I must make this letter longer as otherwise I am wasting paper however, now I am wasting ink instead. Grandmother is now reading over my shoulder and telling me not to be so contrary.

Therefore I will do what is typical and describe the journey to you. I was not held up by highway men, shipwrecked or robbed so you can stop worrying now. In all ways it was uneventful. Now I will describe the city, the buildings are all of stone and are high with tiny balconies at every window. The match making boxes are set into the wall of every street and building. Apparently you need not worry about suitors either, even though I am new in the city I am allowed to enter the summer solstice matchmaking as Grandmother has 'influence' in the city. Hopefully that means I will not end up with a boring country bumpkin. Grandmother has just read over my shoulder again (does she not know that letters are meant to be private?) and laughed; "That's as much as you deserve from what I've heard." What has she heard? What have you and father told her?

The paper has run out. I hope this letter finds you well.