305 ORPHANAGE ROAD  ERDINGTON  BIRMINGHAM

 My Dear Elizabeth,
Writing letters for the sake of the pleasure therein is the last thing I should be doing, but transgression is often sweet.   Hence this. I’ve a nice quiet undisturbed day, seeing no-one, just writing and reading a little.    I’ve two articles to do for the Dairy-Farmer, and the rest of the time I’ll spend messing about with ideas.

Owen must be terrified of talking about this play.   He telegraphed yesterday evening – Regret must cancel appointment will arrange another,-, which is divinely B.B.C.    that’s four postponements, after six week’s delay. But it does look as though something about the idea is promising even if only the title with a nice new play written to it. I’ll telephone him when I go down to the Dairy at four o’clock, and see how he apologises this time. He’ll have to do the play now to make up for the postponements!

I’ve the office to run alone to-day, Eileen’s gone to Wales.    We’re splashing ahead in fine style, and soon the miracle of two magazines in three weeks will have been achieved. Ha.

A letter from Bobby.    They’ve taken a furnished flat in St. Johns Wood for a month.   He is putting in long hours at the British Museum preparing a historical study, with visits to Lords and the Zoo for variety.    Lucky man.

The weather here is dull and drizzly, I hope you have the sun there, Barton would be dud today. But I hope I didn’t end the fine weather.   We were lucky.

I’ll reserve an evening next week if I can, if not we’ll lunch in Town at least.    I’m going home the week-end after you come back, but I can go on Sunday if that suits you. Cricket on the Saturday?    I’m going this Saturday, either to score or to play, whichever they want me to do.    Gosh, this prattling must stop, the hands of the clock creep round and I’ve got to write a five hundred word essay on “AN ELDERLY CAR” and Herbert the Fox, and catch the four five bus, and its after two now.    I’m having that spring done and the new switch board put in the car.   Better have it sound.

I’m sorry I get restless and grown up sometimes, its quite absurd of me.   You are naturally lively and enthusiastic and intolerant, virtues to be carefully fostered for they are the badges of youth.  In getting mildly irritated I am at fault, a case for definite self education on my part.   But you must cure yourself of the idea that I’m a whale of a fellow, or at all unusual, I’m not, never have been, never shall be; just a middling sort of ordinary bloke with more on the debit side than on the credit as far as qualities are concerned. I’m not even successful or gifted at my own special job!

Au revoire, my love to Aunt Ame and Mark. Have a good time in Southampton if you go tomorrow and give my love to the Queen Mary.    I don’t know why you are, or appear to be, so attached to a bloke like me, damned if I would if I were a pretty and talented young female when there are such dashing fellows about  the place, with snoopy cars and muscular wrists and a????hat.

But as you say, quoting me, I don’t know!
For now, a Dios,
Yours. . . .