Hello ladies. The letters you send in every week are an inspiration to us all, but are you still spry enough and sharp of eye to reason which letters are from real ladies' weeklys, and which are faux entries made up by naughty old Mr Spoon trying to trick you? Moley Memories
  Reading Gideons's Way prompted me to recall one of my favourite memories. When I was 12 I saw a mole running across a country lane. I tried to catch it, but it ran into a small hole in the hedgerow.
  I poked my finger in the hole and the mole came running back out, so I promptly picked it up. Its beautiful velvet coat was like unlike anything I had touched before and its little spade feet reminded me of the hands of a human baby.
  I released it back into the hole. I will never forget the wonder of those few minutes.
- Janie Cobby, Devon.
She's Such A Flirt
  I don't like to be the one to say this but the fact is that my daughter is an incorrigible flirt.
She has one boyfriend after another and takes pleasure in leading them all a merry dance.
  I've tried to warn her that she can't go on like this forever and that if the day ever comes when she wants to settle down, she'll have such a reputation that no decent man will come near her, but she just laughs at that.
She's 23. Shouldn't she be showing more sense by this time?

Weekly
Wonder
  I thought you might be interested to know how useful My Woman's Weekly is. I work in a residential home for elderly people and use the magazine to entertain, encourage reminiscence sessions and generally provide a social focus for 30 people who are all over 80.
  The particularly like the serials, looking forward to the next installment, and the crosswords, which many of them can still do! The recipes are very welcome, and though cooking is done for them, they enjoy reading, cutting them out and passing tips to the cook.
  Many thanks and keep the the good work --- from 30 OAPs and the staff!
- Margaret Crompton,
Bolton.

What Kind Of Person Are You?
  I believe that the way we tackle the ironing reflects out character. The ironers who do the easy articles first want an easy life. The ones who pick out the complicated items make hard work of life and those who take each item off the pile as they are folded take life as it comes.
- Doreen Wardle, Bristol.
Good Old Garlic!
I was delighted to read about using garlic for middle ear infection. I'm 81 and can remember that when we were children and my sister had earache during the day, the doctor woud arrive in a Victoria (a stately coach) drawn by a black horse named Septimus. However, in a night-time emergency, my grand-mother would heat a garlic pod (clove) in a large spoonful of olive oil over a candle flame until it sizzled and shrivelled. Then she'd wrap the garlic safely in cotton wool and put it in the bad ear, bringing peace and rest for us all. Next morning, the pod would be removed.

Junk Junkie
I'm fed up with everyone moaning about "junk" mail. There's really no such thing. It must be of interest some people or companies wouldn't send it out. Why do so many people knock it?
  It may be the only item of post for some lonely individuals.
And just think of all the employment it creates.
  And if it upsets the conservationists --- all those trees being cut down to produce the paper --- well it can always be recycled.
  I say three cheers for junk mail and long may it continue.
Jill Merryweather,
Purley

At Loggerheads
  My 16-year-old daughter and my husband have been at loggerheads for the past two years. I didn't think things could get any worse but the have - ever since my daughter decided to have a ring inserted in her nose. My husband responded by constantly making mooing noises at her. She now refuses to speak to him at all. The atmosphere in the house is just dreadful.
  Please can you suggest what I can do to improve things?
A Little Bit Of Love
  As I walked through a scruffy pedestrian subway, from the car park to the shopping centre, one wet and windy morning, I saw a baby's pretty soft shoe sitting on the sill of a boarded up window.
  Someone must have picked it up and placed it there for safe-keeping, hoping the mother and baby would come back that way and find the little shoe. How thoughtful, even in the most unpleasant places, some people still think of others.
- G. Martin, Cheltenham
He's Still A Boy
  I am very worried about my son who is only 23 yet has become involved with a woman of 38 who is divorced but has no children. For the life of me, I can't see the attraction for either of them. My son's only a couple of years out of college and has his whole life ahead of him. If anything were to come of this relationship and they were to marry and want to have children, it's obvious that time would not be on their side. But, apart from that, I just can't see why a mature woman would be interested in someone who's really still just a boy.
  She has her own flat and he's spending more and more time there. Is there anything I can say or do to put him off? I don't want to interfere but I do want him to understand that sorts of problems such a relationship could bring in its wake.
  This is one of those situations where it's not what you do but the way that you do it that counts. You could raise your reservations with your son but only if you can manage to do so in a calm, reserved way which demonstrates that, no matter what you might feel, you still trust him to make the right decision for himself.
  One possible approad would be to ask quiestions. Don't you find that the age difference causes you any problems? That way, you have planted the seed associated with your own reservations in your son's mind but not forced the issue.
Gnome Pride
My husband Kenneth grinned and said: 'Look what I've been given. I'll call him Angus.'
  I glared and shook my head. Angus had a white beard, a red hat and a green jacket. If there was one thing I loathed, it was garden gnomes.
  'He's not staying here,' I said.
  Battle began. When Angus appeared in the garden, I threw him in the pond. Kenneth fished him out. Next I hid him in the freezer. Kenneth tracked him down.
  Finally I hatched my most devilish plot. I would prepare a steak and kidney pudding. I would serve it up to my husband. When he stuck his fork into it he would strike something hard.
  Angus.
But then Kenneth had to undergo heart surgery. It didn't succeed. At 56, he died.
  Now I hold Angus and remember the fun I shared with Kenneth. Angus, I treasure you.
- Bee Wade. St Johns Close. Colchester, Essex
The Tables Are Turned
  At the age of 60, I was amazed to be told by two young workmates that I was very quick and sharp because I know my times tables. In my school days, we had to learn our tables off by heart and, though I don't think I'm very good at maths, I've got by simply because I know my tables so well.
- T. Crisswell, Suffolk.


Ok!  Now you've read those lovely letters you can now find out which ones are from the genuinely demented, and which are from womens' magasines. Ha ha, I had you then.

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