47 Glencairn Ave
Toronto 12 Ont. Canada
Sunday am. [18 July 1954]

Dearest Claire:


I am writing under the maples in the backyard on a sunny morning about 78° in the shade, straw hat on my head – the first time I have had it on in 15 years. It looks like Beelzebub's canopy but as I do not know anyone coming down Duplex – what's the difference? It's the soul that counts, isn't it? The people coming home from church are not used to drawing such fine distinctions, so why should I bother.

Mother is in the kitchen working on the W.F. drawings and revolving over suitable titles. All my suggestions have been discarded as irrelevant or sacrilegious. Some other day when it isn't Sunday I'll try again.

Cal has his corset on, but some adjustment has yet to be made to give it a more masculine appearance. I guess I'll have to break it in for him as my form is more angular and crag-like. I am going down to see him this afternoon to eat a few plums for him. Some kernels may help.

So your new friend will not be staying long at the Press. What a pity, for you need the compensation in prospect now abandoned.

Cal has just phoned to say that he would like to go to York Downs for dinner tonight, the absolutely perfect place. We leave here about 5:45 and return about 7 circa.


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