Em,
I'm a right git. I know I left you in it for awhile, but the thing is, I had some stuff in my car. I had to get rid of it before I went down to the station. Couldn't stash it in the house, what with Gran playing bleeding Miss Marple.  I also popped round the bank, but by the time I realized I didn't have enough to bail you out, you were already free. Anyway, I know you told me off for smoking in the first place, and I know you're right. I promise I won't get you in trouble like that ever again.

Archer gave me hell. I think he was most bothered that I got you off the hook. Anyway, it was my first offense. I think I'll get off with a fine.  Got a court date, though.

Haven't spoken to Gran. Don't think we could manage a civil word yet.  Thing is, I've been thinking (even before all this) and I reckon I'd like to come live at SG and work in the gardens. I've done it all my life, with Granddad, and never really thought about it much.  I like it though.  I'll talk to Simon about it and see what he says.  Course it matters most what  you think. So how about it--can you love a gardener?

John