No about (15)

Scampton, Lincs.

Oct 12. 1917.

My dear Dad:

Haven't hot anything to tell you but will just write to let you know I am still going strong. I have had very little mail lately. Three letters from Fern 15, 16, & 17 and a pair of sox from Margaret Simpson. It seems impossible to get leave but I will be in London very shortly I expect and will go in and see Mr. Metcalfe.

I think I told you that I was flying Spads. I like them fairly well although they are not so good for stunting as the Pups I flew previously to Spads. Had my first crash this morning. Bust a Spad so that it is a write-off. That is there is not enough left to bother trying to fix it. Did not even get a sprained ankle so can't work any leave on that.

[?] Jeffries came up to see me the other day. He is getting along fine and is talking of trying to waggle some leave long enough to take a trip back to Canada. I doubt if he can do it.

You might tell Fern that I am OK as far as sleeping accommodation is concerned. She seems to be worrying about that. She seems to think that I would be content to remain sleeping on the floor as I did the first two nights here.

How is everything going on at home. You certainly must have been much sicker that you had me to believe at first. I will be much relieved when I hear that you are able to get about again. You certainly ought to have stuck to the McLaughlin as you said. They don't have punctures and even if they did, Why? You have somebody along who can fix them, How come? What!

This will have to do for the present.

Your loving son

Gord