Dear son, Just a few lines to let you know I'm still alive. I am writing this letter slowly because I know you you can't read fast. You won't know the house when you get home - we have moved. About your father - he has a lovely new job. He has 500 men under him - he cuts the grass at the graveyard. There is a washing machine at the new house, but it has not been working well. Last week I put in 14 shirts, pulled the chain to start the washing machine, and haven't seen the shirts since. Your sister Mary had a baby this morning, but I haven't found out if it is a boy or a girl, so I don't know if you are an uncle or an aunt. Your uncle Patrick drowned in a vat of whiskey. Some of his workmates tried to save him but he fought them off bravely. They cremated him and it took three weeks to put out the fire. I went to the doctors on Thursday and your father went with me. The doctor put a small glass tube in my mouth and told me not to talk for ten minutes. Your father offered to buy it from him. Your father ate five pounds of potatoes all to himself. He managed it because the potatoes were only small ones. Your loving mother P.S. I was going to send you ten pounds but I have already sealed the envelope. This was from Steve's humour list (firstname.lastname@example.org).
This message was sent on 10 Apr 1996