I got your wise epistle of your birthday. I wrote to you for it. Didn’t forget. Molly is the same as she used to be. I have not seen Joyce. I went to Harwich to see Dad and found Dick Reade, & Winter the Adj. (of Mons), as nice as ever. He had a big wound all stitched up on his shoulder. He showed it to me when he went to bed.

Dad is the thing, right on the job, judging prisoners, ordering his company about the parade ground and above all in sole command of a soldier’s servant-valet. Joy! Glover is with the Riding L.1. Bill Gravely, his chum is inconsolable.

I saw Gran again in passing through London. She is very well and was very pleased to see me. She had put up a box of eats for me. Very good. I wrote Princess Christian and got a nice answer back. I will send it to you. She was my good friend in 1905. There is joy in camp when mail comes from “God’s country. They love their letters. I showed Princ. Chs. letter to the cook, (Esterbrook), a Devon man. He was much impressed, being English. Canucks wouldn’t be.

The tent was blown down, (not up). The fire boy beat it with some … so we don’t hear much from him now. He must have great ability to hold men’s attention for evenings though, in spite of that. The tent is happier now Dick Short and Gifford have cut out the booze for a while, and things go better. We will winter in tents instead of huts. They are healthier and nicer. If only the mud would dry up, it is miles thick. I am in good state now, no cold or anything, in spite of rain and cold, no rheumatism yet. The feet hang out.

I went to lunch with Uncle Horace and Aunt Maimie and was scared at first, but came through alright. I had tea with Uncle Horace in the “In and Out” and he was very nice, hurting with rheumatism, and loss of potential capital I think, unbearable. A lot of money.

Godfrey is at the front. Geof. Calverley is in Ireland. Evelyn’s man is in Egypt or at the front. Michael Aldham is with the R. A. M. C. driving motor ambulances; Duff’s man is also at the front. All Essex is there Aunt Maimie says. She is running a hospital for wounded Tommies and Belgians at Harlow. Lloyd George is soaking Uncle Horace, 5 shilling to the pound now, super tax, double income, municipal rights tax and others besides. The pits are putting up battalions in Yorkshire, 3 from Leeds Pits. I will go to Early tomorrow. Hope you get my Christmas stuff Your Loving Hugh. *plus fragment…

Lady Francis Cecil sent me a rubber sleeping bag and some wooly socks and a cap. Very good for her seeing that I had only met her at Milnes and when I wrote her from Canada it got passed round, according to Mos’ B’s underground correspondence. Being young – at the war – must I think be some sort…

This is where the carloads of fruit ect go. A carload is lost among 33 thousand men. It gets down to a grape per man. The grub is good and plenty of it.