The last letter is dated 7 Nov and Postie is very remiss, but doubtless he will deliver a little pile and make up that way. I’ve been sorting the past three months letters and re-reading in them; you do write good letters. I made a note of the shades of condiments or whatever you call things for the face and I’ll do a recce. I’ve bought some humdrum things for you today, macaroni; rice, sultanas, raisins and so on. Now to find suitable boxes and away with them. With love even though they are not decorative things; points, though I suppose.

                        A Saturday night it is and I have deserted from an ENSA show having got it all worked out and a nice packed hall. Privacy of my room and a letter to you seemed better somehow. Henry is playing Poker, I don’t. Bridge though and have good cards and play them well now, and always make a few ackers.

                        Today winter came with a roaring wind and deluges of rain. Plumbing here is poor and puddles stand everywhere. We have plunged into winter clothing this evening and now onwards, and I hope it is the last time I don Khaki drill. This wear should see me home. I watch anxiously for the arrival of the SD. It should make it quite soon.

                        Henry Vesey is charmingly devoted and fond and puts himself out completly to help me. We walk and talk and he encourages in the most intelligently tactful way. Its nice of him and he’s a Peter Carter with sharper intelligent and taste, and a good critical faculty. He dislikes soldiering because he lacks adapatbility and is by nature a quiet connoisseur of living and finds it hard to suffer the large proportion of fools which are inevitable in any communtiy. I like the man. He has a German wife, from Danzig, he loves Poland and Greece and has trotted around Europe a great deal and loves his timber business. Was fond of his father who died in 1941. He’s 37 or somesuch release group.

                        And is Richard still exploring this new life of his ? I liked that piece in Country Life I sent to you about his name. But it was not to be fashionable that he was so christened. The man there is right about not abbreviating good sonorous names. Dickie is all right for personal internal use only.

                        Now must I have a go at Act 1 and try to finish it. This play may come to nothing but its worth doing for the sake of the experience and the psychological effect of writing it. I hope I see it through.

                        My love, dearest one, to you and to my Richard. We’ll taste the Spring together, us three.