So let me be Frank. It’s a name I’ve always liked. My grandfather’s name was Frank and we were good friends. He was only my ‘sort of’ grandfather. My ‘actual’ grandfather was a mysterious Austrian (Austrian, not Australian, I stress) violinist who I never met and of whom my mother never spoke. Frank was my grandmother’s third husband – so that tells you something about my grandmother. I hope it goes without saying that I was very close friends with her, too. I used to sleep at her house every Friday night and she would quietly put sweet biscuits under my pillow after I had dozed off, for me to eat when I awoke in the morning. My mother would not have approved.

I have no recollection or information about my second grandfather, either, but my mother chose to keep his name. I should have her asked why. Too late now.

So, as I say, let me be Frank, and state, quite frankly, that I am lazy. I planned to scan all the F ideas from people to seek inspiration but, in the end, I couldn’t be F’d.

So I fell into the arms, once again, of Ms Matthews. I promise, frankly, to leave her in peace until at least L, or thereabouts …

***

F is for Frankenstein

Saw it on tellie

Based on a book by some chick

Mary Shelley

Just one look I could see

He was crook.

He was smelly

He was cruel. He was kind

He was so Machiavelli

***