I have pushed the motor out of the way of Uncle’s, I have broken my fast, I have read your letter, I have escorted, or been escorted, by Billy , round the block, and I have opened the office, set up Ernest at my right hand as a comfort and a consolation to me, Billy is on the wooly rug and the Service is on. A fire burns gaily and all is bright and cheerful. I have two hours for work, – excluding this stolen time – and then, I sally forth to Eros to meet Rolf, and we shall lunch together. Then back, without even one visit to my tiger, to carry on with the play. I have reached page 9 and 16 will see the job through. It is a pleasant script I think, but quiet, you know. No galloping horses yet, no crowd effects, no twanging of bows or thundering of mailed fists on oaken tables. But books are quiet things. My fear is that it may be too quiet to be entertaining for children. But I can’t tell.  Anyhow I have got a good title at last, playing billiards last night – “SEVEN AND SIXPENSE NET”, – “A Play about a Good Book”.   How is that.

                        Don’t be modest.
I fail to see that I was particularly clever in bearding Gordon Stowell in his den, but it may lead to profitable writing for him. Ideas come crowding now that I have seen him and know on what desk my MSS. will be read. Why don’t you illuminate my MSS ? Make an effective appeal to editors. Fancy capitals and liitle angels all over the margins.
We shall deliver the goods on Monday.
Wherever I am, whatever I am doing, whoso ever I am with, on Sunday I am determined to listen to Hamlet. 9.5 to 11 o/c. Its a glorious opportunity. Shall I come home, to Oakfield road, on Sunday afternoon. Saturday is awkward because I would have to leave in the afternoon – it’s a long way, and that reduces my writing time by a chunk. I want Saturday for reading through, touching up and so on. But I could do it at your place. On Sunday morning and afternoon, and deliver the script by hand, couldn’t I ? I must decide. I’ll pause and think, excuse me for a minute.
Good, that’s worked out very nicely. I drive away from here at three o’clock and arrive at Birmingham at seven on SATURDAY NIGHT. Then I shall be there to make, hold, keep, eat, drink or celebrate Wassail with you and your Uncle and your cousins and whooppee for us all. I shall revise the play on Sunday and deliver it at night. If I want the midnight oil as we’ll I shall have the night to work in extra. A good scheme and good in many other more personal ways.
So I shall see you on Saturday at some time in the early evening. Difficult to say dead accurately, because journeys by road are chancy things. I might stop for tea somewhere, one never knows, does one.’ But I’ll be there for the party, and whooppee.
Excuse more now, I must to work. Heigh ho for St. John’s Wood and a flat. But what about Village Cricket then ?