T. E. Lawrence to his mother

Plymouth

19.3.29

It is not quite so cold, today. The camp still proves itself easy and good. It is so pleasantly tiny, after Karachi and Cranwell. More like Miranshah, but more crowded than Miranshah.

The longest leave we get is from after duty (noon) on Saturday, till midnight Sunday. If you set against that the distance we are from London, you'll see that that amounts to very little. Also there is the Odyssey to tackle. I have not touched it yet. It takes so long really to settle down in a new camp. We get a month's leave a year, too, of course: but this I am saving against the fear of a sudden release of that film, with a lot of public chatter.

I saw Clouds Hill. It is as lovely as ever: only chimney-pots on the top, as the sole disfigurement. I have paid for it now: only the conveyance is not yet ready. Four years has that wretched land agent been bungling his business. My job here is going to be given me in about 10 days or so. Till then I just busy myself doing some typing work in an office, helping a clerk who is too full of work.

N.