Now to-day you’ve got to put on nice tweedy clothes, some thick shoes, and take full advantage of this heaven-sent opportunity to breathe fresh air and to get that colour into your cheeks. Think of all the poor people buried in offices, and you, who have so keen a sympathy with the nice natural things of hedges and fields, are free to go out. So on with the tweedy things, have an early lunch, take a bus – and don’t grumble at the poor bus, it can’t help itself, and it is your chariot to freedom – take a bus to the Maypole, and walk a good seven miles, Take the main road until you hit a lane, up the lane to the first field path, and overt the fence and along the grass. Breathe the air, sniff the oxygen, prance a little, think of pictures, or a stroy for me, of a house in a village, of anything, Don’t get this awful idea that no-one can be happy unless with other people, its a dangerous symptom, you can relish a long country walk alone greatly, I almost prefer it alone, except for a Certain Exception, But swing the legs and arms, and think how good it is to be (A) alive, (b) Out (c) English, (d) you. Ten miles wouldn’t hurt you. Come home to a Hot Bath, a change, an enormous tea and then lounge happily until the Humber wafts me to your door later.  I shall want to know what you saw, what yokels you talked to, what birds winked at you, how the hedges looked and all that, I’d come too, only it would be difficult to fit everything in this week if I did. You’ve plenty to think of, and lots to see. Any hedge is an encyclopedia, even to me, let alone to one as keenly observant as you are.

                        So be off with you, and breathe deeply, get your radiance back,

                        Here are some Minivers and a letter from Phyl. Strained don’t you think ? And what an extraordinary idea, Tam I mean. After all, its all very well, but, if you see what I mean…its really rather….isn’t it ? What is the reason….Impatience or what.

                        I have answered the enclosed Kenneth letter saying make it in June, But not the 17th., we can’t Dairy palaaver and all that. Oh dear.

                        You are a booby sometimes. Perhaps I take it all too much for granted, in a sweet matter-of-fact contentedness and don’t give sufficient outward and visible signs of my inward and spiritual gleefulness,

                        I’m sorry about this week, I’ll try to come to lunch on Wednesday, and perhaps stay some of the morning, until I go to the B.B.C. We’ll find a source of income. But never so grand as verse plays for Bishops. But its a grand idea.

                        No more now, save my love. Be cheerful and be yourself. You won’t get so that you are negative to my positive will you ? Do the thinking yourself for the family, not just a humble partner. Equals for Gawd’s sake. I fear that my dominant and narrow-minded ideas on life might swamp your own more delicate and certainly truer ones. Don’t think me too grand, it is a mirage if you do, and you mustn’t try to please me, just being you pleases me more than anything else could. You as you usually are, when you are happily yourself, as so often you are, as you were, par exemple, last Thursday afternoon, confidant, quiet, busy, enchanting. So don’t think me any more than an ordinary bloke, passing honest, quite steady really, with rationalised ambitions and a desire for a hearth and home worthy of so inly-good a mistress as yourself. If you get these fanciful idea about me I’ll get them too, and then the balloon will burst.

                        But as I said, no more now. Be happy, be sure, be yourself, get well and blooming, do as you want, don’t go for a walk if you don’t want to, and don’t be petulant. Be E.M.T. than no one can be nicer.