Oddly enough there has been a Sunday feel about the camp all day. It was there when I woke up. I carefully donned clean linen & sat on my truckle bed & sewed a button on. Had a complete Company Parade, the last, & then we weighed & measured & interviewed everyone of our five hundred – for Release purposes. So passed today. Feeling slightly melancholy this evening I telephoned for a truck & went to Quassasin to the club for dinner – music, soup, fish soufflé, lamb chops & mint sauce, chocolate rice & watermelon. Then read some not too elderly Punches, & so home. The driver, an Italian as they all are, was chatty & friendly. (I had bought him a dinner too & he was very grateful) & so to my moonlit camp.

                        Tomorrow I finish off the winding up & on Tuesday depart. Lorry to Tel el Kebir station, train 1030, arrive Alex at 530 & a truck to meet me. To the Mess & report in on Wednesday morning. So the last phase (I sincerely hope) of my military career. Last night’s letter was, I fear, a little sombre in tone, for the which I do apologise. These very beautiful evenings tend to sobriety of thought. Fine for love, sorry for absence of a loved one.

                        I have handed in my army watch, so good a friend it was, too. I’ll buy a cheap knock about one until I get home or until my wristwatch arrives if you’ve been able to send it. Whichever be the sooner.

                        Yesterday I wrote in my best Italian to Lanave & to Alberto & all the Saviozzi & also to il mio Giorgio, who, I honestly believe, will grieve for his departed Capitano David. A very sensitive lad, of high spirits & the son of his Mother. To Lanave I sent one of the precious colour pictures.

                        One of the problems here is the money. One deals, of course in Piastres, 100 of which equal a £E, & 95 of which equal £1 sterling. So to take them as pennies is dangerous. They are near 2½d each. And they are in all shapes & sizes & all metals, & there are grubby sticky-papered 5, 10, 25 & 50 Acker notes. (Acker is English, soldierly, for Piastre). Being so used to Lire I tend to translate first into Lire @ 400 to the pound & then into sterling.

                        No news, much love. And bless our little prince of a son.
I do love you, me in Egypt, you in Great Alne ! Bless us all.