The trains may not run on time; but His Majesty’s Postal Service is prompt as ever. Your letter arrived yesterday.
It will be different, obviously, if you wind up overseas—but, as things are going, there’s no saying when
will be. I dare say I’ll be serving somewhere myself by then. For now, though, I’m still at the same address, so you needn’t worry about the post office forwarding your letters.
Yes, of course, I’m sharing with someone else now. I do have to cover the rent. His name’s Adderley. You don’t know him; he’s just out of med. school.
A decent sort of chap, always ready to bore my ear off talking about his fiancée, who’s working in a factory (but I shall spare the censor the nuisance of having to black out just where it is).
As you can imagine, it all means that I rather welcome long hours at the hospital, the more so since Harrison’s letting me do more in the theatre these days than just close for him.
Read the rest via the link in the description!