(written at a previous date)
Dear Harriet Walter,
My mom asked the room in general today what the tiny little package as came in the mail was. My sister asked where said package had come from, and my mom said she believed it came from the UK.
Naturally, the words "package" and "UK" make a combination which tends to seize me by the ears, being as it is that they are two of my favorite things and the best packages I ever get always come from the UK.
Sure enough, the tiny little package turned out to be a copy of your book on Macbeth! I knew it wasn't going to be a huge book but great Scott this thing is tiny, tiny and delicate and holding it makes me feel like a zombie gorilla manhandling a butterfly. Fantastic picture of you on the cover, too.
I believe I shall begin reading it now. I ought to be working on my prelab report for class tomorrow but I think I'll only do that once I've eaten. (said she, waiting for her mother to get done cooking like an extremely useless lump which cannot feed its own damn self)
(PS, the author bio thing in the front flap claims that you have "contributed several essays and articles to other drama publications" and I just want you to know that it causes me near-physical pain that I don't know how to get my hands on these essays and articles in other drama publications)