I expected your identity would not still be a secret.
It has been nearly three months since the beautiful flowers arrived on my doorstop.
My mum called me dying to open the accompanying card and find out who was responsible.
When I saw the little pot of tiny white roses my heart skipped a beat.
At first I thought they were from my grandmother (the only person ever to have sent me flowers before) but the card put that thought out of my mind.
The handwriting was disguised and the message was in simple block capitals
'HAPPY BIRTHDAY. LOVE FROM AN ADMIRER. X'
My name on the envelope held no clue either. Only that the person called me Kat, and that they knew where I lived.
If you are reading this my oh so secretive friend, I have no hope to guess who you are. I have wracked and wracked my brain and still your identity evades me. If you still wish to keep your secrecy, know that you made my year.
Never have I been so delighted and complemented.
And should I never get to say so in person, thank-you for the most thoughtful birthday gift I have received... probably ever.
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