How is it wid ye this day ? I’m at Caldergrove, where my typer lives in a splendid library,  having come straight from Auchinraith after dinner. And about my neck is a collar and a tie, which is very restful and a Sign of Progress in the Right Direction. I think we are all right now bar bad accidents. Three people went before the C.O. yesterday, J.B., A man named Orr, who is a scruffy sort of person and one Yorrith, a youngish bloke. They were reprimanded sharply, but let go, and that is the last normal Grey List, so I’ve escaped them all so far. Now we start M.T. tomorrow, and it’s a less rushed month. Which is a good thing.

                        After this letter I shall write to Mother, and then to Mr. Careless telling him for the twenty five pound order from Anne to comfort him and his Head Office – and to Anne thanking her and suggesting Nelson (sea power) Marlborough (Britain v. Dictators, linked with Winston) Watts or Stevenson, (mechanical leadership of Grt. Brit.). Florence Nightingale or Lister (Medicine) Livingstone (Empire development) Captain Scott (scientific exploration) and Cromwell or Pym (political freedom and the nicest way to run revolutions) then after that I hope they won’t know I’ve finished so that I can have forty winks in a tempting chair here, then afternoon tea and talk on this evenings script for Bertha’s broadcasts, the third of our series – then the writing of said script, and after High Tea the running through of all three scripts, tidying up, adding of rhymes, two to precede each, and that is that for her to take to Kathleen on Wednesday. Good boy ? Yes, good boy.

                        Did you like the Willie Winkie one ? I hope so. Really I mean, not marmalade. Ha, our dear little jokes. I love your sudden little letter-writing jokes. Fragrant of you.

                        Dreamed about you all last night, and felt very disillusioned this morning when it was a single bed with one occupier only. Time will pass, four weeks today we’ll be together at Kettering and then off to Great Alne. . . Is it asking too much of you to suggest the Kettering week-end. Mother writes valiantly saying not to bother, that she’ll come to see us somehow in the week, but I feel it’s right we should go, she such a dear, and Mother’s gallantry is very touching, she means it. But imagine us having leave and not seeing her. You do understand, yes, it is both my duty and my wish, in this case they coincide.

                        I shall telephone you this evening, if the lines are straight and true. Dear you. It is good, by the way, about Mr. Fuller and Mr. Harrapp and William Shakespeare and us, isn’t it. It might be a useful little occasional cheque, and anyhow we’ll have the publication royalties. Let them pile up.

                        I am determining three ways of saving a pound on my outfit and travelling down, compartment and not sleeper is one way, no extra binge on the last night the Friday, another, and something else not thought of yet another. With three pounds can we buy a summer coat for you you on Saturday morning July 18th ? To wear to Kettering, or a hat or what ? Think. I’ll have the money in my pocket, and it is for you to spend. More if I can manage it. Apart from Household Expenses and Life Insurances. A frock or a hat or a coat, modest but nice. Think about it. Its an idea. I was going to buy a leather roll toilet outfit for myself, but a sponge bag with a soap tin will do instead. I would enjoy buying you something. So consider it well and report to me the result.

                        Thanks for the shoulder bands, which arrived last night, and the happy letter. So glad the M. of L see what a grand really war worker you are. I want details of the interview please. You’ll show the village. Nonie, pshaw, a thing of straw, and not the nicest straw.

                        Under the War Emergency Act you are entitled to a weeks holiday when your husband, if serving in the forces, gets his leave. I get my leave from Friday July 17 to the following Saturday. Remember that. We might go to London together on Friday night, and me down to Longmore on the Saturday afternoon ? An idea, or not. Que pense-tu ? Do nothing all the week save love one another and indulge in much porcupination with Poggeridge, and then go to Town. Or not. Add the cost to the coat ? Work it out.

                        There’ll be a little play for you in this I hope, I’ll leave it envelope unstuck down. I’ll do all I can to rake in extra dough, really I will, so far I’ve been very lucky, you must admit, and a little bit clever, thanks to you, my inspiration.

                        Save some fruit me, and some digging, and tell everyone I love them, those I do love. Oh, Samuel Brown’s not come to town yet. Is he. & Klaus collect the shoes, and can your mother post them ? Please ? Bless you, dearest. Your allowance will bump up soon, you know, so don’t fret.

I am fond, me, of you.
Ever your own. . . . .