My Dear Maureen,
I arrived back at camp late last night and found a marvellous 13 page letter under my pillow. It was just great. I don’t know how you manage to write so many pages – perhaps it is just another of your wonderful qualities. Your letters always leave me in a very good mood, so good in fact that my mates just say ‘how many pages?’ as they receive my cigarettes.
My mother has been sitting here ages talking to me about nothing in particular and I have been dying to write to you. I always wait ‘til everyone has gone to bed, then I can think of things without feeling as though everyone is reading my mind. That is a guilty conscience I suppose.
Sorry about not writing these past few days but life has been rather hectic. I believe I told you that I may be going skiing, well that has now happened and I am sitting in a little hut stuck on Mount Troodos writing on a wonky old table. For some reason or other the Air Force has given me four days off to go skiing, not only that, the C.O. of the Squadron brought me and another guy all the way up here in his staff car. I felt dead chuffed as I pulled out of the Sqn gates. There was I reclining in the back seat taking steady drags at a cigarette and getting away from it all.
Please let me keep the photograph!!! It’s not that it is just a photo. It means more than that. It’s special because you gave it to me on a special day, you know what I mean. I won’t show it to anyone else if you hate it so much. I just want to keep it.