Dear Mrs Anderson,

Please forgive the awkward timing of this letter. I understand that it is Valentine’s Day, but this is in fact not a Valentine’s Day letter. Given that we both have our own respective spouses whom we presumably love very much, that would be jolly inappropriate! Rest assured this letter is of an entirely serious and unromantic nature.

I couldn’t help but notice that you didn’t smile at me across the way yesterday when you were taking your dear son Sean to school in the sulky. Forgive me, but I can’t help wondering if this is because last Saturday I dropped a box of Corn Flakes on your lawn and some of them spilled out onto the grass. I do believe I picked up all of the flakes and even checked seven or eight times, but it strikes me as possible that I may have missed one or two, as my eyesight isn’t what it used to be and also I had quite a lot of busybee thoughts buzzing around my mind at the time!

Not that I believe you’re the sort of woman who would hold a grudge over such a small incident, but since you didn’t smile at me when you were taking your dear son Sean to school I thought perhaps I should just explain the Corn Flakes incident (not that I think you would be angry at me because you’re a very reasonable and kindhearted woman who assumes the best of people [I assume!]).

I am deeply sorry about spilling (Kellogg's®) Corn Flakes on your immaculate lawn, but please consider that I’ve had quite a lot on my mind in recent weeks. Not only was my knee playing up again on that particular dewy morning, but I was also thinking about the fact that my dear wife Patricia doesn’t seem to be taking that many opportunities to spend quality time with me. As far as I can conclude, this is either simply an issue of basic compatibility and she in fact finds it quite tiring to spend time with me (which would be totally fine and normal, given I only really married her because she lived down the road), or she is in fact climbing onto the lap of our neighbour and local dairy farmer Jack Johnsworth between the hours of 4-6PM on Thursdays, which is when I dare to take my squash lessons.

You see, Mrs Anderson, my dear wife Patricia is always laughing at Jack Johnsworth’s dairying-related jokes—a topic she clearly knows NOTHING about—and while it of course makes me happy to see a smile upon her beautiful face, it also makes me think about smashing Mr Johnsworth’s head in with my racquet and burying him under the hooves of his own dairy cows.

I’m sure that would help the grass grow nicely for them!

Once again, my dear Mrs Anderson, I apologise for the Kellogg's® Corn Flakes incident and for delivering this letter to you on Valentine’s Day–I hope it won’t cause a commotion with your husband, but I’ve never been one for patience and I simply must communicate my concerns to you before this misunderstanding escalates. I hope you will feel reassured knowing that I will write to the manufacturer and let them know that they must redesign the Corn Flakes box so that, if dropped unexpectedly as a result of having many things on one’s mind as well as some knee pain, none of the flakes can so easily and readily escape into the grass–not that I think you would be the type of person to hold such an incident against me, but I simply must ensure that you understand the circumstances.

You see, I find it therapeutic to take a box of Kellogg's® Corn Flakes on my morning walks with me, because the sound of all those crispy, crunchy flakes jostling around inside the box as I take each step calms my nerves considerably. Not to mention, I’m quite popular with the ducks down at the pond!

I hope Mr Anderson has a cracking Valentine’s Day planned for you both (please assure him that this is in fact not a Valentine’s Day letter, despite me sliding it into your box on Valentine’s Day)! I would take my wife out for a romantic picnic to look at the swans (who also incidentally are partial to a corn flake here and there!), but she says she is quite content to stay at home and read her romance novellas. I had a flip through one of her novellas last night–titled THE MILKMAID of all things–and the central masculine character is called Jack. You can see now why I’m dropping boxes of Corn Flakes on your lawn (for which I can't apologise enough)!

Kind regards and happy Valentine’s Day (but not in that way, you understand!),
Frank Turnips
The End