My mother writes that since I left, I have 'received from Simon Warren pages 29, 31,32, 33, 35 of what appears to be a journal about his life with just writing and on heavy 9x12 card stock. Each was mailed separately with stamps and amazing to think the postal people got them here in fine shape. Eileen had kept them out of the box and in a special folder with a yellow card for pick-up.' My friend the post mistress is going to wait a day or two to see if there is more and then my mum is going to put them in a package to send to me.
This is the mailboat. Mail goes on and off the island in sacks and is sorted sometime before noon, depending on the season and the boat schedule. I suspected I might have something arrive from Simon in Maine as when I returned to England I found numbers 28 and 38. 
Simon's letter took me to a New Yorker cartoon (May 13th issue) I'd read on the plane:
And as you know, I've just returned from Cranberry Island where some of my year-round peers thought of Cranberry Island as Simon speaks about Tring. They called it 'The Rock'. As a visitor, it holds delights I can find nowhere else. It's a bit like England to me because I feel (still) like I'm visiting. 
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