Two nice letter this morning, read slowly & lingeringly.  One with 30/- (for which many thanks) & the other with hankies, brush & wool.

                        Its 10.35 & Dr. – I mean Capt. Vincent,  has been his round.  He’s perplexed about me.  He’s very thorough & does the thumping act all over the back.  He’s very firm about me staying put until the temperature is down to normal.  It’s been prancing again.  The entire plan is now :-
                         I do miss the squad.  But it’s no good fretting, & the blokes here are very sweet & we all help each other.  Nothing serious here, bad ones go to the Scarboro hospital.  All very amusing.  The Jew boy who “lost his memory” is better now & returns to duty tomorrow (its pay parade on Friday).  One bloke with a strained knee is sweet.  He’s a handsome fair haired bloke with a crested signet ring & the name of Sheersmith (not hyphenated).  He’s very devoted & simple & can’t write letters, he just isn’t a scholar as he says.  I’ve written three for him today, & he’s very grateful.  He smokes a Dunhill (& works in a tobacconist shop in Grimsby in Cory Street)

                        I should be up tomorrow, (Friday) & out for the weekend.  The weather’s changed, its heat waveish, so I can recuperate on the cliffs & been very fit for duty on Monday.  It’s stupid, but this cissy complaint of mine, I feel all right & look all right.  I miss the squad a lot & they’re very sympathetic & say they miss me.  I’ll catch them up, anyhow.  But enough of me: I’m fine really, except for a rather pleasant (& quite foolish) languor.  But I do pine to be booted & champing about.  But once up I’ll champ & champ.  I write of myself so much because (a.) I want to allay any fears you may have about your husband being decrepit & miserable, whereas he’s perky & clean & sitting up and his little iron bed with his hair brushed & his eyes bright. & b) because I know you are as interested in my doings as of your own.

                        We’ve moved upstairs this morning & nurse has given me the best bed, by a window looking straight over the sea, all blue & calm & lovely.  Bless her.

                        Dr. (I mean Capt !) Vincent saw your picture today & admired it.  Everyone does.  The blokes all whistle and say such things as “gee, isn’t she it !” Very awed & complimentary.

                        I loved the cuttings.  The Red Cross Committee one impressed nurse (Eva) & the cricket looked good.  Flash Neal’s playing.  How are they all ?  My love to them.

                          The hankie is a lovely & will serve.  I’ve had a cold & used plenty.  No cold now.

                        Now for the PYJAMAS.  No, I didn’t record it, silly of me.  In the future my Secretary shall !  But one can begin to relax.  My caution was because you’d have been so disappointed if it was, is, a false alarm & I didn’t want you to be disappointed about anything.  Of course I’m thrilling with new pride and admiration & a deeper love for you.  At first I also worried a lot about you, personally.  But you’re so healthy & sensible that we mustn’t.  Because obviously all will be well when it does happen, next year or in the future.  You have courage & we have faith to know that it’ll be alright.  And the whole idea is STUPENDOUS.  Us.  Carried on for ever, Us, proved & sharing in the very miracle of life.  Us, you & I, and our own contribution of magic.  He’ll change me completely, make a man of me.  I’ll write, I’ll live, I’ll do & be things.  A son, new manhood, compact of us, with his own divine spirit added, and ideal for us to live up to ; or a daughter, with your nose & profile & your eyes.  But, as I say, until we know, & until I can get the necessary courage to face confidently to the price you have to pay, I can’t clarify it at all.  If ever I’ve prayed, sincerely, its been for this.

                        But do be careful & sensible & begin now on a pint of milk a day.  Marjorie will find it.  You won’t get fat, your energy will always keep you trim.  But, my dear, if it is !!  Yawks !  I’ll be a soldier, & fight, & write.  God in heaven, what a blessing it would be.  And I’ll get plenty of leave.  If its a Brian or an Anthony or a John I’ll have to get a commission !  If its an Ann or a Mary or an Elizabeth I’ll have to produce a Best Seller.

                        And the Book Must Sell.  All of the best for you two, or three or four.
                        I forgot to put in the Military Dress page.  Here it is.  Charming, isn’t it.

                        So glad you like the picture.  But Klaus & you are biased when you say that P.O.D. stands out.  I look like a puzzled curate with a bellyache still, to the eyes of love !

                        Yes, don’t be dragged away from Klaus too much.  He’s a good sort, I’m very relieved that he’s with you.  Swagger of him to be working at Norman’s.

                        This time please telephone Eleanor & give her my love, & Mary.  Say the fountain of words is not running dry but is being refilled.  Sprouting will begin in due course.

                        What money do you get from Mrs. Edwards ?  Let me know.  Will probably have to forge some notes for you to come up here.  But we will, & we’ll have our ten days & then start.  If only the book would sell. (or get itself published ! ! !

                        Here’s nurse with some nice din-din.  I’ve got your tin of biscuits hidden by my bed for when my appetite returns like a welcome wolf

                        ‘Tis is a lovely view from here, blue blue sea in the sun.  I’m reading Tristram slowly & with great relish.  Its grand.

                        Ernie’s wife comes on Friday, till Monday morning.

                      Bless you.  I await news eagerly.  How’s the car & the village & the H.G.  & how nice of