I thought I said no more birds
The Twelve Days of Christmas
I usually steer clear of fictional letters, but some exceptions demand to be made. Variations of this series of correspondence have been doing the rounds for years, and with good reason. A couple of weeks ago, at Letters Live in London, the incomparable Lolly Adefope brought them to life perfectly, so I’ve included footage of that reading below. Speaking of which: if you live near New York and would like to come and see Letters Live next year, scroll to the bottom for news of our return to Manhattan.
25th December
My dearest darling
That partridge, in that lovely little pear tree! What an enchanting, romantic, poetic present! Bless you and thank you.
Your deeply loving
Emily26th December
Mr dearest darling Edward
The two turtle doves arrived this morning and are cooing away in the pear tree as I write. I'm so touched and grateful.
With undying love, as always,
Emily27th December
My darling Edward
You do think of the most original presents: whoever thought of sending anybody three French hens? Do they really come all the way from France? It's a pity that we have no chicken coops, but I expect we'll find some. Thank you, anyway, they're lovely.
Your loving
Emily28th December
Dearest Edward
What a surprise—four calling birds arrived this morning. They are very sweet, even if they do call rather loudly—they make telephoning impossible. Bit I expect they'll calm down when they get used to their new home. Anyway, I'm very grateful—of course I am.
Love from
Emily29th December
Dearest Edward
The postman has just delivered five most beautiful gold rings, one for each finger, and all fitting perfectly. A really lovely present—lovelier in a way than birds, which do take rather a lot of looking after. The four that arrived yesterday are still making a terrible row, and I'm afraid none of use got much sleep last night. Mummy says she wants us to use the rings to 'wring' their necks—she's only joking, I think; though I know what she means. But I love the rings.
Bless you
Love,
Emily30th December
Dear Edward
Whatever I expected to find when I opened the front door this morning, it certainly wasn't six socking great geese laying eggs all over the doorstep. Frankly, I rather hoped you had stopped sending me birds—we have no room for them and they have already ruined the croquet lawn. I know you meant well, but—let's call a halt, shall we?
Love,
Emily31st December
Edward
I thought I said no more birds; but this morning I woke up to find no less than seven swans all trying to get into our tiny goldfish pond. I'd rather not think what happened to the goldfish. The whole house seems to be full of birds—to say nothing of what they leave behind them. Please, please STOP.
Your
Emily1st January
Frankly, I think I prefer the birds. What am I to do with eight milkmaids—AND their cows? Is this some kind of a joke? If so, I'm afraid I don't find it very amusing.
Emily
2nd January
Look here Edward, this has gone far enough. You say you're sending me nine ladies dancing; all I can say is that judging from the way they dance, they're certainly not ladies. The village just isn't accustomed to seeing a regiment of shameless hussies with nothing on but their lipstick cavorting round the green—and it's Mummy and I who get blamed. If you value our friendship—which I do less and less—kindly stop this ridiculous behaviour at once.
Emily
3rd January
As I write this letter, ten disgusting old men are prancing about all over what used to be the garden—before the geese and the swans and the cows got at it; and several of them, I notice, are taking inexcusable liberties with the milkmaids. Meanwhile the neighbours are trying to have us evicted. I shall never speak to you again.
Emily
4th January
This is the last straw. You know I detest bagpipes. The place has now become something between a menagerie and a madhouse and a man from the Council has just declared it unfit for habitation. At least Mummy has been spared this last outrage; they took her away yesterday afternoon in an ambulance. I hope you're satisfied.
5th January
Sir
Our client, Miss Emily Wilbraham, instructs me to inform you that with the arrival on her premises at half-past seven this morning of the entire percussion section of the Liverpool Philharmonic Orchestra and several of their friends she has no course left open to her but to seek an injunction to prevent your importuning her further. I am making arrangements for the return of much assorted livestock.
I am, Sir, Yours faithfully,
G.HENLEY
Solicitor
LETTERS LIVE NEW YORK
I am thrilled to reveal that we are taking Letters Live back to New York City for a three-night run of shows, each of which will be unique—so you could, if you wished, come to them all. Letters Live will be at the Town Hall in Midtown, Manhattan on 31st May, 1st and 2nd June 2025, and all of the shows will be in aid of Choose Love.
Tickets are now available, so grab one here while you can. And please spread the word!
Before I go: this ad-free newsletter only exists thanks to the support of its readers. If you’re able, and you haven’t already, please consider becoming a paid subscriber or making a donation via Paypal or Stripe. Thank you.
Letters excerpted from The Twelve Days of Christmas by John Julius Norwich. Illustration from Getty.
Birds aren’t real.
I live just around 3 hours straight north of NYC, so to say I’m excited about Letters Live this close to me is an understatement. Going to buy at least one night’s ticket ASAP!