47 Glencairn Ave.
April 7, 1958
Most gracious madam:
Your much-anticipated letter came an hour ago having traversed one thousand and odd miles at the height of 15000 feet approximately awesome transportation.
My, but we are glad your balcony looks over the sea. Take your fill of the sea air and sea beauty, and don't fuss about too much in travel.
Here, the routine was changed a wee bit yesterday. Your mother went down to church and deposited the cheque which she forgot to put on the plate the Sunday before forgetful, agnostic darling.
Neither has the routine changed in relation to my abominable foot still calling out and cursing (I mean the foot). No change either in my work on the Bowater Prize contests. I am getting tired of mental defectives; most of the articles being on I.Q.'s. Mine is getting low through reading about them.
Now about the weather. The fine days came to an end yesterday, and there is snow on the ground today, and it looks as if there is more to come. Note the order indicating a pessimistic progression.
I'd write more but my hand shakes, a condition which wouldn't take a Sherlock Holmes to perceive.
Silly ass father.