Excerpts of letters from the Katie archive.
January 24, 1999
Buono sera. Come sta? Gli spaghetti buono. Per favore, non capisco. Il bambino, Molly molu, dormire bene. [Good evening. How are you. The spaghetti good. Please, I don’t understand. The child, Molly, to sleep well.]
That’s it. I can stand it no more. Arrivederci.
Today I vacuumed the living room rug and found not a mouse, but just the tip of the snout, the part with the whiskers on it. [My husband] Ned has a terrible habit of mousing after I have fallen into slumber.
February 21, 1999
I can sound Irish if I just say ‘t’is’ alot. T’is a fine day we’re having. T’is a massive rear end that you have, lassie. T’is with love I must go now. —Kat’is