[Ted has written the year incorrectly out of habit]
Ever so many thanks for the lovely silk hankie which I think is too fascinating, also Mr Britling, which I am delighted to have & will read with pleasure I know when I have time, as I hear it is so awfully good, also for the plum pudding which arrived safely, but I have not tackled it yet.
I’m ever so sleepy tonight as it is past eleven o’clock, & I’ve got to go over to the post yet to post this, as the mail goes out at 5.45 tomorrow morning.
I have’nt done much this week since I last wrote. Things have been fairly quiet; Jack Hogg commanding our 3rd Batt has been down here on leave and I dined with some pals in the Wilts in their mess, they had a ladies’ dinner party first & we all went on together. And Oh yes I must tell I met a Mrs Mackenzie who used to be Dorothy Massy at Camberley years ago; I did’nt remember her much, but I expect you or the girls would. Her father was at the Staff college. She called off all our names without mistake or hesitation, and asked after everyone, & of course we had a tremendous Camberley F.F. Her husband is comptroller to the Viceroy’s Household; awful nice meeting an old friend so to speak, though we did’nt actually remember each other.
I have been playing tennis all this afternoon, & here it is fearfully late & I am very sleepy. I met the Ricketts this afternoon, & they have asked me to go out sort of picknicking on Sunday, to go & see some of the local sights in the car, which should be rather jolly.
I hear from Cox that my sword has arrived in Bombay safely, so I ought to get it up here soon now, after signing about a million papers & forms. Thanks awfully for sending it out. Yes, I have got Dick’s address & must write to him. He seems quite pleased at having got a job with a cavalry regiment, & it’s ripping him & Topher meeting is’nt it. Jolly good idea that putting the dining room at the Tommies’ disposal, & I bet they appreciate it no end.
At last we have got some pictures of the Tanks. I simply could’nt picture them to myself before, so we are very glad that some photographs have been published at last. They must indeed be awful things to see coming along and there seems to be no escape from them.
The fire has gone out here & it’s so cold so I’ll just nip over the post with this, as it’s after 12 now.
Best love to all
Yr loving son
Mr Britling Sees It Through by H.G. Wells