by richard hoad

It’s a terrible affliction: I hate to intrude on anyone’s personal space. Those greeting hugs and kisses, never. Drop-in visits, never. Sending emails, very few. And phone calls . . . .
You see, I always worry the other party may be having sex. Or doing something nice. Some days I feel to call Brass Tacks. But fear at that very moment  the lovely Tamekia, who possibly has a secret identity as Braid Girl, might be putting Tony Marshall’s  hair in cornrows.
This gets me into trouble. I promised to help Venezuelan Manuel de Casas with a music project. The days went by with me feeling ever more guilty.  But I couldn’t call. Luckily he went ahead on his own. And we’re still friends. I think.
There are other pending calls which hang heavy  on my conscience. And today I want to clear off a few. With your permission:

Dear Judy Gibbs,
Thanks for your note saying how much you enjoyed (twice!) one of my old columns which you kept for many years. I wanted to send a nice reply but my printer isn’t working. And not even I can decipher my handwriting. So your letter has been sitting on the kitchen table spoiling my lunch for the last two months.
   Sorry. Love you madly. – LD

Chère Yvette,
Je me très sorry not come to Luc’s birthday party.  Mille pardons à M. Poirine. Les difficultés de transport. J’apologise profuselyment. Je suis un chien,  n’est-ce pas? – LD

Dear Mr Hoyos,
Re your open invitation to dinner at The Plantation. Had a cold at the time and never got back to you. Not that I would have. No doubt whenever I phoned  you’d be having sex and would hate me for intruding. Best leave it at that. Thanks anyway. – LD

Dear former PM,
Wuhloss, Boss! It’s down to me and you and a dog named Boo. And we can’t even be too sure about Boo. The long knives are out. But I can find no fault  in what you did. The lady called for a headcount  over a non-issue. She got her comeuppance.
My only request: no Prime Minister has ever led us through such a sustained period of economic bliss. Keep yourself fit in case we need pulling out of a hole. – LD
 Dear Baba Elombe,
Got the emails about your Must Carry initiative. You want us to petition Caribbean prime ministers so that all local TV stations must carry all Caribbean stations. This, you think, will foster integration.
I fear you may have the wrong man: (1) I have not owned, and rarely watched, a TV set in the past  20 years; (2) CBC showed Jamaican soap Royal Palm Estate and the Trini Westwood Park – “Sex, love, money, drugs, rape, murder . . .” bragged the flyer, “and that’s just episode one!” Neither gave me even the slightest urge to integrate; (3) Bajans have Direct, MultiChoice and the other thing which some say is illegal beaming American programmes. I doubt  they will watch Caribbean.  
Furthermore, my studies of immigration and multi-ethnicity issues in England, Australia, Canada, the USA, the Middle East, Fiji, Bosnia, France, Palestine, Sri Lanka, Trinidad, Guyana, have convinced me that putting different groups in the same land space is  a recipe for disaster. Check the comments which bring out the seething hatred which most British people feel for the “authoritarian nightmare” of the European Union being forced upon them.
I support economic cooperation between Caribbean states. But any talk of mass free movement and political union, leave me out. – LD

Dear NASA,
We have in our midst a Mr Peter Simmons who, noting that TWO boys from “outside the Barbadian ethnic mainsteam” (out of a population of 282 000) did well  in a cricket match, jumped to the conclusion that  “it shows what a varied, multicultural, polyethnic melting pot our little island nation is today”!
Surely, someone capable of such  a stupendous quantum leap should find  a place in your space programme? – LD