...you may not remember me - but I am the 13 year old girl who wrote to your problem page in Jackie magazine in September 1976. My problem was concerning unrequited love for David Cassidy and went along the lines of "how will I ever survive is David doesn't even know I exist?" That particular problem continued to plague me - (probably because you never published my letter and therefore neglected to give me anything resembling advice) for a few more months, and then my attentions turned toward Ben Murphy of 'Alias Smith & Jones'. I did write to you concerning this as well - but sadly my letters were never published and I never garnered any advice from your good selves. Never mind - I know how busy you were back then dealing with girls with pimples, and periods and stroppy sisters, and disagreeable mothers, and new boyfriends who were trying to persuade them to allow some panty action. Your job must have been tough at times.
I now have a different problem, and I need your help. Earlier today I went to Matalan. This visit was precipitated by my impending house move. I have a need for housewares. Because I have moved home twice in eighteen months, I have mislaid quite a few bits and pieces. Nothing of any great importance - but stuff like coffee mugs, everyday crockery, and saucepans, spatulas, wooden spoons, breadbins, kitchen waste bin, tea towels and so on. This, in itself is not a problem. The problem is that I actually enjoyed browsing. IN A HOMEWARES SHOP
. At one point I felt giddy and had a big smile on my face. I had to take a deep breath and step outside.
Next I went into Curry's to compare and contrast various models of Dyson vacuum cleaner. This was even more serious because whilst inspecting the tools and attachments I found myself experiencing a 'damp pants' moment. I also had flushed cheeks (on my face).
I decided to leave the retail park without purchasing anything...but not before making a 'list' in my flowery notebook that resides in my handbag. I appreciate the seriousness of what occurred and am writing to ask what you think I should do next. If I don't take action I feel sure that soon enough I will find myself pushing a trolley around Aldi - and if that happens - well I don't think I could carry on.
Please reply to my letter as soon as you can - I am in dire need of advice. It's urgent. I can already feel the stirrings of desire when I secretly whisper the forbidden word 'Ikea'.