Its nice to think that you have been inside the address at the head of this letter, and I hope it happens often, very often. Its a shame that your home is so far from here, but if you can come sometimes it’ll be grand. Without a car, (I must stop bleating those words !) it’s impossible to be  anywhere  alone  else.

                        The orgy of last vehicles we caught on Saturday was most exciting. I just leaped on the last tram back, so everything was for the best. I presumed that your bus was going to your home. Hope I didn’t desert you in the wilds of deserted Brum at midnight !

                    I have been looking at and getting most friendly with those sketches you so generously gave me.  Lilah, (that is the name of the lady) definitely grows on one, which is a grand sign, and the dusky maid (?)  with the jaguar – leopard, tiger- panther is on my desk now and is leering at me as though to say, “Now you be careful young man”. Thankyou for them,

                        The more I think of it the more amazed I am at your niceness in coming out on Saturday with me, of all people. If you’ll do it again I’ll be dumb, almost, with thankfulness. We MUST go to that cottage which was mine and which is still mine spiritually. You must weedle your boss into a day off, ome ordinary frosty day, not a week-end, and somehow we will get there and somehow, though this is more of a detail, we’ll get back again. And we must go to a concert, and we must walk in the Cotswolds, and we must sit here and talk when it is cold outside and warm inside, and we must. . . . Do a thousand things. When is the first opportunity ? I am about to be snowed under with things to do. There is a Dairymaid and a Dairy-Farmer to be written before the middle of next month, and a Dairy-Farmer after that. My precious stage babies must be launched, well and truly, and there are four shows before the end of November. Perhaps you’d come to one with me and help me behind the scenes ? Or wouldn’t you  ? And we must keep our own writing going. So life is difficult just now.  BUT difficult or not, something must be done about it.

                        This week looks sticky.  Rehearsal of the Fantasticks tonight, rehearsal of my kids tomorrow, though I might see you after the School (I finish about half past eight, only I don’t want to deprive Jack of his ray of sunshine after a dark day’s teaching. That would be a dirty trick. Then Wednesday I am working day and night, Thursday the same unless I go to London to have lunch with Pinker, my agent, and Friday I work all day. Saturday the show and Sunday more Dairy work, at the cottage. Its a devil. But as soon as I have an evening I will write you urgently or wire you, and hope for the best.

                        I nearly called on you yesterday afternoon. I went to Moseley about four, and pondered. There was Frank, of the Show I could see for tea, there was Jack I could raid, and there was you I could call on.Then I thought that perhaps it would make you depressed to have me cropping up again so soon, so I called on Frank and had tea and talked concert party till seven and then went to a rehearsal with a man. So you had a narrow escape.

                        And so, Betty mio, I will send an optimistic S.O.S. at the first opportunity and hope that we can do something.  Gawd knows when It’ll be, but I’ll wrest the time somehow from the akward arms of circumstance.

                        Let me know that you got home safely, and that you felt none the worse for our somewhat hectic evening. Oh, why not do a series of Le Rugby, same style. Le Cricket would be grand. Fellow in flannels, leaning forward, gazing at a ball which is bounding towards him. Waiting to snaffle it and feeling nervous, or else standing idle, cross footed, with a blade of grass in his mouth. Le Tennis, contortionist or waiting at the net, alert and clumsy. He could wear shorts. Le Golf. A bloke scrabbling in a hedge with, a niblick looking for a ball. And so on  ?     Might be fun.