Mother
I trust your new accommodation and circumstances find you well? I have settled in my home; my lodgings are directly above the oven room which keep them warm. The front of the shop is immaculate, except when people slam the door. Flour everywhere! The street is tidy, compared to nearby neighbourhoods. (Horse manure, refuse, leather stink from the tannery, vagrants. It’s like that time we took a trip to see Uncle Jock in Glasgow)
I met my neighbour yesterday, Harry Hough. He owns the butcher shop, which he has decorated with a sign outside in the shape of a knight, holding a large meaty shield. He calls his shop ‘Sir Loins’.
You’ll never see me doing anything so crass with Crumb’s Cakes!
Your son
Felonius Crumb
YOU ARE READING
The Crumb Correspondence
HumorThis story was an experiment of mine, telling an entire tale through the medium of letters - an epistolary - however, to make things interesting, the correspondent, Felonius Crumb, is what you might call a buffoon. Follow his story as he relocates...
