11th October, 1990.
Dear Mr Moore,
Now here's a thing: I was sorting through some old papers the other day and I came across a poem I "penned" some time ago which I thought might interest you. Here goes:
When I was out the other night,
I glanced up and I had a fright:
For, instead of being round, the moon was elliptic.
I guess it's position was semi-ecliptic.
My good friend (and one-time barmaid), Stense, upon hearing of my intent to send you the above poem, insisted that I not waste the price of a stamp (22p) on such a small letter and suggested I enclose a second poem. I must admit, there is a sort of Scottish logic there, I suppose, so here goes (I wrote this one especially):
Budgies like cuttlebones,
Moths like pheromones,
Dogs like marrowbones,
Rolf Harris like stylophones,
I like The Rolling Stones,
And Patrick Moore likes xylophones.
There's no accounting for tastes!
Hope you liked them.