Epsom,
Feb. 3, 1918

My Dear Mother,

Encore le dimanche! And it is my fourth here: I hope to be away before another fortnight passes.

Life here, now that I am used to it, is quite bearable for I’m enjoying good health, a good job (in charge of Sgt’s mess) and loads of good stuff to eat (and I don’t flatter our Mulligan Queens (female cooks). I clean myself up in the morning then sit about and read the rest of the day, watching my 6 men do the dishwashing etc. So before long I’ll tip the scales at considerably above normal if I stay here.

Web is in camp now as a patient and working for one of the Medical officers. He looks much better, fatter and healthier all round than I ever saw him before. We are going down town to church tonight and I think we’ll be Methodists or Congregationalists for we were High Anglican last Sunday and it was a bit too high.

I’m not getting anymore mail yet excepting from Ewen and the boys in France.

You need not send me any reading matter while I am in England for we can usually get near a library (or buy books cheaper that the cost of postage). So far as parcels are concerned they would be of much more use to Ewen for he is O.A.S. and can’t have free run as I can. I don’t want to say that I don’t want any but Ewen needs them more than I. Comprie?

There’s not more that I can say besides – “I’m jake”. So I’m quitting. My fondest love to all.

Your loving son
Mac

c/o Mills.