You'll Be Sorry When I'm Dead by Marieke Hardy Read Free Book Online Page A

is the ‘G’ plate for older drivers which I think is a very very good idea. My grandma is 73 and when she was driving I found it quite embarrsing. I would lie down in the back seat so that no0one I would know would see my driving with her as her driving was very bad and I didnt want people to think that maybe one day I would drive like that to. As she is now in a nursing home this is no longer a very big problem however I am sure other people would like for some law like this to be past to save them the same embarrassment from their friends when they are forced to drive with old people who everyone knows cant drive.
    Also signs that should be in english would be good to. If people are going to come to austraila they need to learn the language as well as speak it properly. If they just come here and we let them put up signs in there own language they will never learn how to join in our societry.
    Also I dont think that having the politicians in Star Trek uniforms is a very good idea to. I dont know if this was a joke idea but it is not good to put it with youre other ideas because people will think that the other ideas are jokes when really they are good ideas which should be listened to and not for people to think they are jokes. So maybe it would be good to write to the papers and tell them that the Star Trek idea was a joke so they can print it so people will know to.
    Anyway I think John Howard is a very good prime minster and I am glad he won the election even if it wasn’t by very much. He has some good ideas to and I will write more about that after I join.
    Anyway you guys are cool! Please write back soon!!!!
    Sincerely from
Stacie Mistysyn.
    Poor Stacie Mistysyn, moniker used in vain yet again, this time with the sole purpose of making fun of the Queensland Young Liberals. There was possibly some kind of stoner logic attached to writing a fan letter in the style of Snooki from Jersey Shore . No doubt I had pictured the right-wing twits at the Young Liberal headquarters gathering around to read with worried frowns, musing aloud that if this was the sort of halfwit fan they were attracting with their policies perhaps they should probably just rethink the whole thing, or even give up altogether.
    The hobby (quest? compulsion?) of writing to companies soon ebbed, no doubt much to the combined relief of the managing directors at Uncle Tobys, Sax International and Ocean Spray, and I instead wrote to new friends. I wrote to wharfies I’d met during the MUA dispute. I wrote to distant relatives, and admired artists, and people whose stories in the press had moved me. The frothing mania of changing the world, one stamp at a time, receded as I grew older, replaced simply by a need to reach out to another human being via a medium more thoughtful, more palpable, than a 3 am text message or dashed-off gmail. There was love in a letter. There was a heart. At Women of Letters shows I too now bent over an aerogramme, glass of wine abandoned as I scrawled across the page. I wanted to belong.
    After a relationship broke down I gently attempted to mend bridges and build a gentler future by writing one long, self-reflective, blameless letter per week. It was my wish that when my ex-partner held my words in his hands he would forgive my many mistakes, and sense the impassioned hope between every line of my poor penmanship. That he would appreciate that I’d taken the time to sit down and write him a letter, because no electronic missive could convey the sentiment of our years together, nor possibly help us find common ground. And I didn’t use a pseudonym, and I didn’t create fictional children or complain about a broken or tasteless product.
    I just told him I loved him and put it in the post; he could read it as often or as little as he liked.

Forevz
    This is a cancer story that has some jokes in it, so if you think perhaps that’s in poor taste it’s probably best that you put this book down and