In the Guard Room. I’m Class Officer today, so all this evening and tonight I have to stay by the telephone, and it was from here that I telephoned, with three Sappers Corporal and odds and sods about, hence my restricted conversation. This is also a strange typer, hence my restricted typing !

                        Such a shame I couldn’t get through last night. The man tried so hard, first you and then 44, but said the Exchange was out of gear and that there will be no hope that evening. My only worry was in case you shouldn’t know that you were out of gear and worry about me. I hope you didn’t. I was very well, at Bertha’s, where met an ex actor of hers a plump, nice, rather cissy man now in the Pay Corps, in the ranks. Lives at home in Edinburgh and works in the army pay office. But great fun. We didn’t do any castles, we fed and talked and I went away to the Study and wrote the enclosed, ready for our interview with Kathleen of the Scottish Children’s Hour on Friday.

                        Oh, they found a lighter in a drawer and said would it be of any use ! I said yes, and it is. A new one, simple sort but the more effective kind. Lucky me.

                        Sorry I was dull this evening, but in spite of the people there, I was very tired, as we all are in the evenings, after a very hectic day, full of lectures of the high pressure type on mechanics, derricks, and masses, a stream of information on which we are examined on Wednesday, all of which is brand new and strange and very exhausting. Stresses and strains they were, and are. After this I’m going to steal half an hour to finish off the play for your Mr. Fuller, and then swat like billio by the phone until midnight, then bed, head aching but with, I hope, some formulae and ideas sorted out. This is a busy life, mentally as well as physically.

                        Dear Boot, for the ten bob, I’ll write tomorrow, I hope, or Wednesday, no not then, fifteen mile forced route March from two thirty to about eight, and home very tired. Heigh Ho, the weeks pass.

                        This week is critical. If we trip up over derricks and ginns and field works mechanics we are doomed, and it’s extremely technical and breathlessly taught. It’s very vital and very difficult. But why worry you with all this, it’s like your own domestic worries, enormous at the time, better in perspective. What I need is what you need on such occasions, the other one of us to sniff and snuggle into and be soothed and calmed by. Very much I need it. But we shall have time together lots more than seven days leave, and soon. If I pull this through you must live with me for a month or so. YOU MUST. I’ll see to it. Talking of that, and answering your question in this evening, Saturday-Sunday’s letter, you get two guineas a week when I get a Pip. That’s a help. And I should be able to spare a pound a week by going tee total which won’t worry me. I xxxxx to pay into the bank regularly too, easier financially. Earning about as much as when I was a   I think. Depends on personal expenses of course.

                                         Darling, I must to work. Five weeks and a bit, about forty days altogether, unless I fail, then it’s sooner.
God bless you, dear high hearted one . . .