To the Royal Mail woman who had my Southampton address in her route

12 Oakbank Road

I lived there between roughly the start of 2005 and the beginning of 2009 when I left for the oh so charming-looking but immensely sadistic cesspool known as Portsmouth.

Thank you. Unlike most of your country people, your fellow English people, you never insulted me, you never lied to me, you never abused me in any way and you never stole any items from my mail.

To you, I was a fellow human being, not some piece of stinking excrement.

When I gave you an ice cream from the freezer I had until people in Portsmouth stole if from me, you were happy with that but it made no difference in how you treated me. I did not suddenly stop being excrement.

YOU never saw me as excrement.

You are one of the very very few English people who considered me a human being in the now nearly 16 years that I have lived in this vicious, bile-spewing mess of a country.

I don’t remember your name and that saddens me.

Thank you.

Something similar goes for the receptionists at Strathmore Veterinary Clinic in Andover, which I frequented between roughly 2006 and 2011. Thank you.