May 1918

Dear Old Boy

You gave me a very happy
afternoon. Hold on, and remember that whatever your tired-out
body tells you, you will always be the sunshine of your wife’s and
your childrens’ life. Luck is one thing: I could wish the boys
better luck, but I can wish
nothing better for their
happiness and their usefulness than they should be like

their father, and look at life and judge people and love their
friends and stultify their enemies as he does. You have never made
enemies, and you have never
neglected friends. Remember also whenever you feel depressed at
being “useless”, that no-one who
can do anything to help you will
feel any right to consider
themselves kind or conferring an
obligation. What’s left of you is
worth six of the likes of me, and
everybody knows it. You’re the
original Braw Glen Worpler.
Grettie isn’t strong enough

for another journey just yet, but in perhaps a fortnight or so I hope we may be able to come over and stay
in some rooms as near as possible. How long we can stay depends on whether the climate suits Grettie:
if she doesn’t improve I’m afraid we shall have to obey the doctor’s
orders and go off to some sea-side place. It’s quite impossible to make any definite plans until we are quite sure that Grettie is getting
stronger.
Dear old boy, I’m so proud of you
that I’m getting quite conceited. (Nothing new in that perhaps) Bless you.
Oh, I bought a box of pins for
Grettie

and left it behind at the Little
Shop. I haven’t a stamp on me
except the one which posts this –
oh yes I have. I suppose it will
cover the postage.
Au Resevoir old Sunshine
Your affectionate


Don