Ivan-Ho! What the 'ell 'ave ya been doin? Guardin me post always meant tha I yells at these crazy neighbas. Bollocks! Cigarettes in me front yar! Me thinks not, me wee friend.

I miss the ol apples and pears and chattin it up about the bloody queen and the ginga and the uvver grandson wiv the big teeff. 

Sometimes I lay orake at night and fink about yer and all the mischief we 'ad at the Mrs.' 

How I miss yer Ivan. We 'ad such a bloody right good time togeffer. Remember the time we took 'ol Phin out 'is bowl and player 'ot fish-tato wiv Jim Jam and Jerome, isit? Bloody good it 'twas! Struth!

Arright, mate. It's time ter go ter bed. Got me some new posts ter wotch bright and early. Take care and go give them neighbor a goin' on to! Honest guv!

Cheers!

Freddy Boy

Letter #2

Oy! Freddy, me boy!

Fings just ain't the same wivout you, mate. I've been frightful lonesome. I've taken to drinkin' me ginger beer all on me own, and you know they say that's the first sign of a problem.
The neighborhood seems to be takin' a turn for the worse wivout you at yer post, mate. First, that bird upstairs keeps dropping her fags onto the walkway, making the missus right mad when she goes to pick up the post. Also, it seems as though when yer missus left, she sparked a mass exodus of sorts. There seems to be anuver lot movin' out, and they've been makin' quite a racket transportin' their paraphanelia.
I was finking about 'aving JimJam and Jerome over for a wee get togever this weekend. Maybe we can cause some 'ell for all the folks celebratin' their so-called independence. 'Oo in their right mind, would want to be independent from jolly ol' England? Lord, 'ow I miss those rollin' green 'ills. At any rate, we'll knock back a pint or two in your honor, mate. Wivout you, the free of us get rather out of 'and. Just the uver day, JimJam spilled his lager all over me jumper!
Right! Anway, back to me post. The guvnor gets rather touchy about me using his computing machine. Perhaps the missus will buy me me own for me birfday!

Cheers,
Ivan

Letter #1

Dear Ivan, 

It's been two weeks since i 'ad ter leave yer, my best mate. It's been right 'ard wivout yer. I miss the days in the bleedin' shade of the bloody bushes, right, guardin' us post wile lost in a game of penuckle and sippin' on some ginger beer. I can't wait ter tell yer more about me excitin' adventures. Yer will 'ave ter tell me evryfink 'appenin' in the neighborhood.

Blimey, I miss yer mate! 

Cheers!

Frederick