You think they is Waltons but is really Sopranos

Is bad, since last time I write.

Is Tom, he and this Cressida they having something together. Ican’t believe either. Bella discover Tom is taking off the pants in Cressida bedroom. You see Tom, you wonder sometimes if he even have a pulse, but is quieter ones, we know. I remember Erkhi in Geography lesson. He not say word in class while we study Ice Age but once behind terminal moraine in field he is melting all inhibitions. I in chair quite moody myself doing ‘Are You a Romantic Failure?’ quiz when Bella she explode like nuclear bomb. ‘It seems you can’t keep your job or your Y-fronts in place,’ she say. ‘ But at least you got round to doing something, I suppose. Can the hole in the ceiling and the radiator be next, please.’ Bella ‘tired and emotional’ (we say this in Britain; lower class people say ‘knackered’, not so nice).

Tom he tell Bella this Cressida invite him round to show him old Middlesex paintings she buy. He not expect them to be in bedroom. ‘One thing led to another and it was only one minute thirty seconds,’ he say. I not sure if he boasting or saying it hardly anything. I think of Sven with this woman – what else she be taking up into her bedroom? Is pictures of Sven’s home town to bring him back the memories? No wonder Sven not ringing – she probably has rooms full of his favourite
things. What does I have?

Then Bella she tell Tom to leave now. She cannot have him here. Bella then cry. I’m not knowing what to say because the underpants is not lying. ‘I thought Cressida and me were friends,’ she say, ‘but she always did look down on my John Lewis china.’ It not her fault she could not afford the
Conran, she say. I bring Mansize tissues and she does big blow. I not hear Cressida described in so many nasty words before. It so good. These English middle class families, Kaja. You think is Waltons but find out is really Sopranos.

I go see Tom in tree house. I do knock knock as I do not wish to trespass. Is under black cloak of Sophie which say ‘I believe in fairies.’ I ask if I get him cup of tea but he say no (I learn in UK if any difficult emotion situation you ask them if they want the tea and hope they say yes and you not having to talk to them about the difficult thing.) Tom say no.

I do little cry for them both as I walk back through cold garden. I cry for Fay, Theo and Sophie. I cry for myself – Sven still NOT ring - I cry for Estonia during all years when Father Christmas banned because not member of Communist Party. I cry for world. I look up at stars twinkling, so clear and bright, and wonder what they thinking about us mad people down here?

I hear from my friend Kaja that she starting Christmas preparations with her Mart and has been to snowy forest together to find their Christmas tree. I teach children traditional Christmas Bottle game our boys and girls knows from Estonian past, and show how one who has moved bottle has to kiss person it point at. They look at me as if I sad person from sad country. I expect boy Vladislav be preparing his Baltic Ice Queen Margharitas now and is doing Christmas display with parrots. I just a little bit home-sick.