Rather a long spell with no letters out, because I ve been here and there, back from H/Q, off on a recce, moving or helping to move the company, and taking over a vast suite of magnificent offices in a ship buiIding yard and establishing the company in its new quarters, moving always up the coast.  Now, with cliffs towering from an enchanted bay, with pink blue yellow and white houses clinging to the cliffs, winding streets and medieval alleyes and steps,  queer places through which our Jeep makes its gallant way, timid children, women and standing men, donkeys and dogs, we live a civilised life. The place looks like heaven and smells like hell.   Its decorative from a distance and shabby close to.  But our offices are gorgeous, and for one like me, a dreadful collector of office things, to be turned loose among Board rooms with glass topped tables, mighty modern desks,  type writers, comptometers, filing cabinets of all kinds, for about six hundred clerks it was purgatory.  A whole room full of paper, carbon by the dozen boxes, ribbons, everything possible, and all splendid, and deserted and mine for the taking. But I have established the men in the long marble offices, have taken handsome board rooms for the O/C with Mussolini desks, have a splendid balconied parquetteried, domed, Hitler office for myself and the orderly room clerks have milliionairres  desks  and cigar chairs with scarlet leather seats.
So here we are, ridiculous  to sublimely ridiculous,  sandy holes under a tarpaulin and now this, with half built ships all round us on the stocks.
We had a glorious drive up here about thirty miles, is in convoy, through a gigantic mountain pass, comic little villages climbing the hill side vines below and above,  and towns where the people cheered and waved and through fruit and presents to the sappers and touching sight,  old priests stood on the steps of their painted and pink towered churches – so very Italian,  and blessed us.  All very odd. But we make the men remain distant and aloof as yet, no peace yet and they are a slippery race, and have done such dirty tricks. British wouldn’t do that as Germans or Italians drove through Great Alne.
I’m very well and  expect a batch of letters any day perhaps this evening.    One from Mother yesterday dated September 16th full of you and Dickie and her enchantment at the idea of your son. A  parcel “most beautifully packed” of fruit had come for her and she was so pleased, a dear soul. I would love it if you could be with her or have her with you for Christmas.  But I know the difficulties you have. I love you all so much.    Oh a letter did come from you,  August  6th,  still in bed and ordinary one,  sweet  and all about your son, this wonderful sprig of the herringfolk.  I am agog for the photographs and the drawings.
The paper I’ve got from this place superfine very thin now I am aching for the opportunity  to write a book,  for Dickie and for you and for 98,000 other people and Mr. Cape but shall I perhaps as we settle down. I have an idea.
How I look for letters when the post corporal comes, nice cpl. Rackham. He’s just come in, none for me this time tomorrow perhaps, I know you write so I can wait.
I’ve just made up a little parcel for you in whitish paper,  a few cosmetics which maybe not very good, if not give them as presents to Andertonian folk, but for you if you like. Two eyebrows for you or for crayons for drawing for Dickie. The lot was only 80 lire, – four shillngs. Also a matchbox with some of what I think you call Intaglios, little stones from rings. Also a baby pink elephant, for Mother Anne  and a little man mascot for Marjorie.  A St. Anthony for you and one for Dickie, not very good I’ll do better. The crest and the red ring insets may be good and may be tripe I wouldn’t know. The profiles you can keep, make into rings, give away  or sell to jewellers as you wish.  I leave it to you.  As we get north to better towns I’ll get better little things.
I love you even if the parcel is not of very rare things. Most things here are not rare but there are things for the scatching. We’ve seen some lovely towns, gorgious cathedrals and drunk some nice wine. But for the blue sky and the pink smells I’d change two hours of you in Great Alne. Its is decorative here though  and the ponies wear  pink hats with  ears with tassels to match the pink upholstery of the little carriages they pull.
I love you and all and all and how is my son Richard, bless the lad.