13 June 1917.
Dear Ones All,
My long-looked for "leave" is now an accomplished fact and here I am with my dear little wife In London. She is writing to you too at this moment and after we have finished we are going out to Hounslow to spend the afternoon and evening with some friends. It all seems almost too good to be true and I pinch myself every now and then to make sure I’m not dreaming.
We had a real air raid over London this morning while Molly and I were sitting out in Hyde Park enjoying the June sunshine, and with the noise of the aeroplanes overhead, the machine guns popping away and the little puffs of Archie appearing in the sky it seemed as though the war wasn’t so very far away after all.
Molly is head nurse in her own particular little hospital but had arranged before she went there that she was to get a couple of weeks off when I came home, so now we can spend our little holiday together. We have found the nicest hotel imaginable, quite small and quite cheap, but with very attractive furniture, furnishings and appointments and the meals and the general atmosphere are as nice as they could be. It is in a good locality too, close to the park and convenient to both "Tubes" and buses. It is worth while remembering the address for hotels in London are mighty hard to find unless one happens to be a millionare. "Pembridge Gardens Hotel, Pembridge Gardens, Notting Hill Gate, W"
There are heaps of invitations for us from two or three of my friends and from ninety-five or a hundred of Molly's so I expect our time will be pretty well filled up.
With heaps of love to you all,