Good indeed, A gay letter. With the same post came two unsolicited testemonials from Frank Saddy and from Eleanor Bailey, both cracking up that ridiculous child of yours and saying he is unusual, is good, is forward, and is nice. Frank related with care how the boy produced a hammer and said it was a hammer. Well, so it was ! I mean, is Frank Nuts or am I. And Eleanore says all sorts of gracious things, I believe none of them, and expect that the child, If there ever was one and it isn’t a mass-hysterical mirage, is no cleverer than Our Gerald, and deserves 14 days Field Punishment, But people do get bewitched. Funny.

            So you’ll want me to go a-courtlng, eh ? All over again ? Say I failed this time. And does that mean a trip to the Broads ? What about Mines ? We’ll see. Yes indeed there are many rumours about the place, and the latest computations put 24 group, mine and a very popular one, at February next. That seems a long way off to me. But they also say up to 26 by the end of the year. I don’t know, we’ll see. And even that doesn’t mean we have to wait until then before we come home, if only for a trip. Wow.

            Just fitted a nice new mosquito net over my bed, all new and complete, I’ve got a mesh screen over my window and infuriated winged beasties peer in and scowl.

            Officish morning and then with Ronnie to the dock and called on Lanave on the way back, and he brought Mrs. Channon away and has her in his room to gloat over, before sending it to his mother-in-law, his wife is nursing in Paris. Its a very good portrait.

            Cheery letter from the Christopher today, in which le naively apologies for his handwriting and promises to have it mended for next September, He asks hopefully where he will find a desk with my name carved on it. I hope he doesn’t cite me as an authority when he is caught defacing school pcoperty. He claims to have taken five wickets for one run, which beats my best of three for two. But my present analysis of sixteen for 165 beats his anyhow. Yah. I’ll damn well play in the Old Boys Match in 1950 and get him out. So there. And in 1962 when Dickie is playing. Yah. Dickie’s Daddy’s Mother’s courtier isn’t past it.

            There are some Russians in camp nearby and they sing in a most disturbingly alcoholic way far into the night and snoop round the back door of our mess thinking its a civilian villa to buy vino. The dogs go for them – Flower and her grown up son Robert, and we make go away signs with our hands, smiley folk but not very sharp.

            Mother is touched about the cheque but still carries it about with her, and has now decided that she can’t pay it into the bank, not even into our joint account, she is stupid, but very nice. She claims to be better and to be going slowly and promises to let half of the house and so be free to come and go. Selling it would not be good, because of the worry of getting another place, the moving in and the fact that she’d miss her home.

            So sorry to hear that Mr. Lloyd is dead. Is Mrs, Lloyd alive still ? If so I’ll write to her. Let me know that without fail. A good man, Mr. Lloyd, and always Mr. Lloyd. He had dignity and quietness and sense.

            Its fun making plans, so what do we do when I come home, primarily. Empty the house and stay there, go away to some unlikely place or what ? Obviously we must go to Kettering right away, aftert two-three days and then back and do nothing for a week or so but walk about and sit and let me look at you.  I shall get about ninety days leave on full pay !

            Just had a good solid look at the picture of you and him in the sliver frame. What a very attractive pair of people you are to be sure. Bless you both. Dobblamo avere la pacienza.