My dear mother
I don’t know why you missed a letter from me as I have written regularly, every Sunday as a rule lately. I have spent most of the week amusing myself. Last Monday we a very successful concert attended by 7-800 men in our grounds, with supper afterwards for about 30 of the elect. On Thursday I borrowed a car for the day and took two fellows into town (about 20 miles away) for the day. I suddenly ran across Black (the doctor at Kassala) with another old Egyptian friend there. On Thursday I went over in a car some distance to see a trench mortar demonstration, but just before the show started there was an unfortunate accident so the show as off. Yesterday I went about 35 miles to ses another trench mortar demonstration, through very pretty country, this time it was much more successful. Jack Brand returned today a married man.
I am badly in need of books. Tell Dorothy to get hold of some good novels and send them along; she need not confine herself to 7d.
We have got a lot of most perfect pink, rode and red peonies in this garden of all shades that would make your mouth water; they are about the only flowers here, as the garden hasn’t been touched since the start of the war.
Your loving son,
Cuthbert
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