Dear Mary, just didn't know what to write. So she invited me around for Sunday tea to discuss the matter. 

Making my way to their kitchen door, I noticed how unkempt the backyard did seem: so bad indeed that I tripped over a broom handle and fell to the ground. Consequently I got my head stuck in a bucket whilst my suit was completely muddy and sodden. 

With arms out stretched, and groaning with soreness I was barely able to gain entrance through the backdoor. 

When Mary saw me she stood in consternation, then ran upstairs with pen in hand.