305 ORPHANAGEAGE ROAD
ERDINGTON
BIRMINGHAM
January 23rd. 1937

Dear Betty,

You went away without your windjammer, which sounds like a sort of a storm-hat, said quickly. I nearly posted it and then thought that the fine would be less than the postage, and so you could have it next week, if we can meet. I expect to have a free evening on Wednesday, although its upsy-downsy because of the proximity of the H.H.H. Show.     But if it is free and you are free then why not fetch it ?    Arrangements later.

I am trying to get going on my poor book, but somehow it won’t get going anyhow. Its a mystery to me, I expect I ought to be something else, a bookmaker’s clerk or something like that and not a writer. I get so gelatinous minded if I’m not careful, just torpid and snoozy and nothing happens. Birmingham air must be too invigorating.

Today is a mucky day, brats rehearsing all the afternoon and Fantasticks performing all the evening. Maybe I’ll go home and see my Mother and Nunk – who has had a touch of ‘flu I hear – tomorrow, if I can purloin Frank’s car. If I can’t get the car I’ll potter about in Birmingham or slog away at the novel here. I don’t know which to do.

You and I. Yes, food for thought, yet though becomes indigestible food and not very helpful. Postpone thought, anyhow. I must not dither now as I have errands to run and telephoning to do. One of these days I’ll give in and have a telephone here. Oh, on Wednesday I brought a bloke home with me from the Tom Tom and we sat talking about Life until two. He’s a young lad who is going into the Air Force, wants to get about a bit.     Wise lad. Wish I were only twenty.

My love to your Mother, and to you and come and fetch the Windjammer next week.

Meanwhile. . . yours. .