Dear Jansy, dear
Andrew,
I am
almost certain there's no point in going far afield in search of the bacon
(although "Naboc" was a good try). I recognize it clearly as one of the
childhood traits of mine that Father lent to Lo. I was crazy about crisp
bacon. Aware of Mother's sound dietary sense, I would
appeal for gratification to my father, who was more lenient and ready to spoil
me. I don't remember if I filched it from Father's breakfast, but do recall
how, on the way home from tennis or some other pastime, we would stop at a
Wellesley diner for my favorite fix: chocolate ice cream with abundant bacon on
the side.
As for the gloves,
despite the good sleuthing that's going on, I remain unconvinced either by the
rubber protective variety or by the theoretical pair pocketed in VN's
soccer shorts. Is there nothing in between? I don't mean
to disregard the author's spin, and, when there's time, look forward
to looking at the book as I should have to begin with.
DN