My dearest Jill;
At lunch time I wrote you an airgraph – actually that was yesterday, for it is now 5:30 a.m.
It is a beautifull morning, as the first rose tinted blush of dawn paints the east as the poets say. It is beautifull really and so peacefull with all our kites put to bed.
I’m pretty well asleep myself sweetheart so I guess you’ll forgive if I just say I love you and crawl on the bench, (my private bunk in the caravan).
I have been thinking of you all evening Jill and wondering if you might be looking at the same stars, thinking the same thoughts.
I must roll in, so keep your eye open for the next epistle.
All my love,