Wednesday pm. [1 Dec. 1954]

Dearest Cayke:

Your two cards came at noon today – the late mail. I started off to draw an imitation of the two pictures on the back, but am going to defer the masterpieces until I go further in my apprenticeship. I didn't make such a bad fist of the doll (about a 67) though I wasn't sure whether she was sitting down on a bicycle or standing up on some outlandish contraption. Later I shall put her in a trapeze of my own creation.

The other picture had me stumped altogether. That taper burned too brightly and the pious look on the face of the Virgin I haven't seen anywhere on this globe. Heaven help me, but some fine day when the sun comes out I'll make the archangels laugh.

We hope by now that cast sore is healed and the temperature is down. We are going to phone you tonight about 7:30.

We are being taken out to see the Confidential Clerk this evening at the Crest Theatre, being called for and taken back.

Mother is just now having lunch with Ina at Simpson's, and I am keeping house. I can hear Ina talking though it is three miles away – 'And would you know it, my dear ... etc. etc. ... etc.' She is an admirable thing nevertheless.

Why didn't you let Peg hang up those pictures? They would have adorned the room and added to the gayety of the mural. Her exuberance should be illustrated in a comic magazine.

We'll write you every day although the news here is about nothing but the constancy of the wet weather.

Much love,

Confidential Clerk
A play by T.S. Eliot, first produced in Edinburgh in August 1953.