Dear Pearl,

 Quiets do come in many varieties, Pearl.  Although where I am right now - in a dirty and primitive and bustling port city on the west coast of Africa - there is never any quiet.  Even in the middle of the night there are noises - giant crows clattering about on the tin roofs,  the persistent roar of the generator,  motorcycles and cars whizzing by on the street, once an all night party to celebrate the end of Ramadam that kept us awake til dawn. 

I remind myself of how quiet it gets on the island at the end of the day.  It's a very tranquil quiet - and sometimes so beautiful it is almost sad.  But I know about the unfriendly quiet you describe, too, dear. And that is the kind that needs some music.  Or Mapp and Lucia.  Not May Sarton, or even MFK Fisher and probably not Louise Brogan or Jeffery Eumenides.  But maybe Ginger Pye or The Yellow Fairy Book. Maybe Travels With My Aunt.  Or Auntie Mame!   Louise says to remind you that she always makes tea with milk and sugar when she's in a cabinet slamming mood.  I can't say I've noticed that it cures her mood in any discernible way, but she claims it certainly DOES and I should pass the tip along.

I Remain As Always, Your Devoted Miss Blue

Dear Miss Blue,

I would love to hear from you. Things are quiet around here so much so that I, once in a while, slam the kitchen cabinet doors hard so that their woodenness echoes around the place. That's how quiet it is around here.

Aside from occasionally talking to myself, best to talk straight into my bathroom mirror; my mother had the exact same way of trying to be social with the quietness; she had a very tiny mirror hanging on the wall over the kitchen sink and that is where she talked to Mary, her friend, and we all - my sister and I - thought her amazing that she did that. We didn't know that she hated the awful quietness. Even though certain kinds of noise, like the churning of the air conditioner, might seem friendly, it is nothing of the sort; just a temporary noise that irritates like the barking of dogs at the poor mailman as he dares to step up to the mailbox on the porch. Well, all in all, it is too too quiet around here.

Sending love to Miss Blue,

Pearl