Bless you. Yes, it seems that I’ll be seeing Honor tomorrow, & that’s a thrill, near to you. I’ve worn Boots today & managed quite well. The damned foots still very sore & tender, but its all right up & down, sideways its a devil. But I’ve missed nothing in my training, only a lot of rather disagreeable Assault Courses & P.T. & lots of square work. I’m fit as most anyhow & PTs to get the unfit fit, & I know my drill. All lectures I’ve been too. I go sick on Monday again for further orders. But I’m so thrilled at seeing Honor. We have tea in Winchester tomorrow, & I go to Romsey on Sunday. Will you be there soon ? Do say you will.

                        Oh, what a lump in the throat hospitality speaks from every line of the enclosed letter ! Dear B.W. ! A library to use, and a place for you to go to ? Three miles. Dear St Anthony. I knew we were wise to write plays for B.W. ! Lucky David again.

                        Where very happy still & we leave three weeks on Wednesday. All this afternoon we were in the fields at Field Work, most fascinating. Lashings of posts, to build bridges, like this :-
                      It’s very useful knowledge all this. I’ll be able to build houses & dog kennels & barns & bridges & all sorts of thing.

                        I’ve just written out a lecturette for a nice little chap named English in our hut. He was in a great state about his lecturette which is due next week. So I’ve given him a complete one on “Personal Appearance & Morale” in other words the value of B/S. He’s delighted & he’s learning it carefully.

                        Oh, I must confess, they know ! On Sunday night a group of us sat yarning & smoking & the awful truth leaked out. They’re sweet about it & I had to say how I did it. When, why, which. I was drawn into talking about myself. They read the cuttings & now I’ve got a copy of the T.O.T.S. & Tony has its & they clamour. Dear  wants 2 copies of M@7o/c &  & so does Bill & Carter. I feel dreadful. But its sound pocket money. They’re so intrigued & don’t think me conceited at all, I would.

                        Cold morning this morning, but a lovely afternoon. Wettish evening. Last night Tony had the migraine. I think he’s married a rich wife & is a dusky lamb. His wife only writes once every other week & he says his in laws are wealthy but mean as hell. He is expecting a letter from his wife with money in it & it hasn’t come for four days. So we ate a lot of Eccles cakes at the Naafi & then got J.B. (Leslie Howard) & Paddy to play Bridge. Very nice 3 rubbers. I’m a lazy pig, but the writing atmosphere here is nil. My only free periods with the ankle are the first two & it’s too cold to sit still in the Barrack Room. I usually read your letters wrapped in Blankets.

I’m nil clear as to the travelling of letters over the weekend here. If I post this tonight it goes 9 AM tomorrow & arrives on Monday. So I’ll not do that. I’ll add to this in the morning & post it then, by the 5o/c and that’ll arrive on Monday. Then I’ll send Sunday’s letter after 5 & it’ll arrive on Tuesday. Dear necessary you. For now, bye bye.

Saturday morning 11o/c in the Naafi.

                        We always spend the first half of Saturday morning on “conservancy” – cleaning the room & everything. Then break, while the C.O. & the C.S.M. inspects the huts, & now the class is in the Square practising for the posh ceremonial parade & I’m free to write.

                        The book – T.T.O.S. – Was sent by Mrs Garbett, with whom I left it, not having packed it & the enclosed letter as well. What cordiality.

                        I’m very excited about this afternoon. It’s ten days, no two weeks since I’ve been outside the camp.

                        No letter yesterday, doubtless Postie tripped up. But with you working as hard as you must be in that great house you’re marvellous to write as often as you do.

                        This coming week’s activities include a day at the range on Tuesday, a route march on Thursday, & some night Infantry tactical exercises on Friday. I hope I can march next week. Maybe it’ll just be P.T. that I miss.

                        Poor Candy. Deserted by both her loved ones. If you go to Romsey you’ll bring her, of course. We can walk her, just us three.

To that Mother of mine 1 Hug & 1 Kiss, if she’s a good girl.
Liz the hen gets more & more eloquent. Never leave her off.