My Dearest one.

Your very lovely, the best ever, I think, letter came this  afternoon and delighted me for a quarter of an hour, acute delight, and a  quiet content and recurring satisfaction ever since, it was the very  leisurely, calm and gay letter written on Tuesday, and posted – and  finished on Wednesday. In it you had met Miss Harding at the post  office and watched postie opening the box, you had called on the  Gentlemen of Scarves and had tea and he said, or you said he said, very nice things about my authorship, and you told me about the talk you had with Fitz and about War Effort and Christmas and so on, and you talked about the card, and you’ll send a proof or a sample or several samples as  soon as you can, even hand painted ones, won’t you, for me to circulate. And about Marjorie’s cheque being only three pounds thirteen. Good bless you all. And you sent Uncle Fred’s letter, and said about Gwen’s   friend Joan, and you ended with old messages which are always new.     A good letter, too good for ordinary me.

A little notice in the News Chronicle by Robert Lynd, Harry Foster’s wife sent it. Here it is.

I had a fit and sent a cheque to Alcester Motors and to the Vet, so Candy can hold her head up and you need not dodge Swingle- hursts, we’re honest in Alcester. That was eleven quid, and three and a half for milk, and four for S.W.8. and and – say -four for telephone and that’s the lot, and it cleans up our royalties, but it was worth it, because your mother can have hers and won’t starve, and poor Goldie might, or the motor folk. Tell her she was seventh on a list and only six came off.     She’s next. Can’t she manage there’ll be lots for her in the fullness of time.     Oh, how much was the Telephone account please ?

It was right to pay these folk, yes ? Keep your card money please, not for bills, try to manage with the King and Klaus-incomes and I’ll have some in due course. Hold everything, poverty may have an end, and we’ve never been too badly off, only our friends the suppliers have had to hold tight, bless them, how they have.

Tonight’s been chaotic. They want a very smart barrack room inspection at 8.30 tomorrow, so we’ve been polishing and bumping the   floor and cleaning rifles and bayonets and shining the soles of our shoes, and cleaning everything. I worked hard, to make the others do so, until  eight, then I came here and typed out the leave lists for the Battery  Office, and wrote the cheques and here I am with lashings of notes to  write

I’ll stay a bit longer. Oh my leave is January 10th. but it can be switched about if necessary. I have lots of ideas for the end of the  book, and for the beginning and the middle will come, I feel we’re on a good line, and I can feel it all, As yet we aren’t into it because Paul’s the  man, and as yet he’s not much to look at. We don’t see much of him at   this stage, but his parentage is important. Thomas is a school master who goes off it, he hasn’t grown up. He crops later on, a big cropper.     Important for Paul. You’ll see. We can re-start it a lot yet. Any reviews yet ? Ain’t they slow these folk, but paper’s scarce. I ordered six this week, and they haven’t come yet.

Your mother is there now bless her, How is she, Enjoy her holiday ? Tell her I love her, is she’s a good girl. Say I think she treated the drunken giant(s) magnificently. Vive les aristos !

I must say good bye and God bless you, I can’t be calm, and peaceful with a load of notes in my books and on my mind, One thing you learn here is how to make knots, real good lasting clever ones.     It’s a grand life, no letting up, and brisk hard work all the time. But such good work, signalling.

I love you. We had fish for tea, Candy’s bill is paid, God save the King, hasten our meeting, beloved.